Tangled Fates

Chapter Number: 02
Chapter Name: Time of No Reply

Grasping Remus Lupin’s outstretched hand, Harry Potter pulled himself to his feet. Hastily brushing soot off of his clothes, he shot Remus an amused glance. "I don’t even think I want to guess how that works."

Remus laughed as he led Harry over to the bar. "Welcome to The Three Broomsticks, Harry. We’re in Hogsmeade, which is only a short walk from Hogwarts. We’re due to meet Professor McGonagall in half an hour, but before that, I’m sure the lovely Rosmerta would love to serve us some of the finest butterbeer in all of Britain." He smiled at the pretty barmaid. "Isn’t that right, Rozzie, dear?"

Rosmerta grinned. "Only the best for you, Remus. And who is this fine specimen of youth we have before us today? Certainly haven’t seen him before, although, come to think of it, he looks an awful lot like-" she looked sharply at Remus. "Is this-it can’t be--?"

"Actually, I think it could. Rosmerta, I’d like you to meet James’s and Lily’s son, Harry."

The pretty woman walked slowly out from behind the bar, tears in her eyes. Harry stood stock still, really wondering where this all was going.

"Harry?" she whispered, staring blankly at his face as though trying to discern something deeper.

Harry shot a sideways glance at Remus, who, in turn, looked away, hiding a smile, and not really offering any help at all. "Er-yes, that’s me."

With that, she flung herself around his neck sobbing tears of joy. "I can’t believe it’s you! Lily and James’s son after all these years! I thought for certain you had really died all those years ago; no one’s seen hide or hair of you in so long!"

Harry pulled away, a little taken aback. "Um, yes, well, it’s really nice to meet you, Rosmerta. I take it you knew my parents, then?"

Rosmerta laughed, smiling at Remus and Harry. "Oh, yes! I had all five of them in here almost every weekend, you know. Your mother was so lovely and your father was always so crazy about her. James and Lily, how I miss them! Even after they’d graduated, they’d stop by with you, Remus, and Peter and Sirius. How they used to make me laugh."

Remus’s face hardened. "Yes, well, I really would rather not speak of Sirius and Peter, if you wouldn’t mind."

Rosmerta looked down. "I’m sorry, Remus." She brushed away a tear and forced a smile. "I’ll just get those butterbeers, then, shall I?" She walked away, then, leaving Remus alone with his thoughts and Harry with a mind full of unanswered questions.

* * * * *

Soon enough, Harry and Remus were walking along the roadway that led from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. As the great castle neared, Harry found himself feeling something unlike he’d ever felt before: almost a sense of complete serenity and contentment, as if simply approaching the castle was special, as if he were finally finding the place that he’d been unknowingly searching for all his life. Which, Harry thought to himself, could very well be true.

The two paused at a set of magnificent wrought-iron gates, each inscribed with the letter "H". Remus pulled out his wand and tapped the center of the gate, murmuring, "pax eternal" under his breath. With a great burst of air, the gates swung open, letting Remus and Harry pass onto the great, hallowed lawns of Hogwarts.

Harry had never seen anything more magnificent. The castle stood tall and stately, with beautiful towers and brickwork, spread about upon an immaculate, emerald green stretch of land. A deep blue lake sparkled in the distance, bordered by an immense forest. Gaping in wonderment, he followed Remus up the large stairs to a mammoth oak door. Knocking thrice, Remus pushed the door open and led Harry inside.

If it were possible, the inside of Hogwarts was even more beautiful than its surrounding grounds. Elegant tapestries adorned the walls and suits of armor decked the hallways. The most amazing thing was the ceiling in the Great Hall, which reflected the outside weather perfectly, making it appear as if the hall opened up to the heavens above. Mind spinning at all the magnificent sights he’d seen, all Harry could do was simply gasp, "This is beautiful," to Remus, who understood.

Sitting alone at the head table, Minerva McGonagall looked up sharply as the doors to the Great Hall swung open. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed a tall boy with awfully familiar-looking jet-black hair following Remus Lupin into the Hall. After all these years, Harry Potter had at last come to Hogwarts, and Dumbledore, nor his parents, would be here to see him finally come into his powers.

Harry and Remus approached the solitary figure now standing beside the expansive table. "Hello, Minerva." Remus greeted cheerfully. "This is Harry."

The always-stern headmistress gazed at the boy, breaking into one of her extremely rare smiles. "It’s wonderful to meet you at last, Mr. Potter," she said, extending her hand. "Remarkable. You’re the spitting image of your father, except, you’ve got your mother’s eyes."

Harry smiled awkwardly, shaking the professor’s hand. "It’s good to meet you, too, Headmistress."

"It’s really quite exciting having you here, Mr. Potter. We’ve been waiting to see what you can accomplish for quite some time now."

At this, Harry blushed rapidly. "Oh, well, I-er-don’t really know what to say to that, Headmistress." He laughed. "And, if you wouldn’t mind, could you please just call me ‘Harry’?"

Minerva smiled again. "If you wish, Harry. Now, please follow me to my office. There’s a letter there from Professor Dumbledore that has your name on it."

Harry nodded his consent and followed the two professors out of the Great Hall. Lagging a little bit behind, Harry was entranced by the twisting corridors and floating candlesticks that marked the halls of Hogwarts. Unbeknownst to him, up ahead, his professors were deep in conversation about him.

"What does he know about everything, Remus?" Minerva questioned softly.

"Well, I couldn’t really tell him much, but he knows the basics about his parents and You-Know-Who. I told him why he couldn’t come to school when he was eleven and a general idea about the War and everything." He paused, looking back at Harry. "It’s amazing, Minerva. He’s practically the living embodiment of the both of them, very polite and well spoken, once he gets over his nervousness-and my God, is he bright! Vernon said he was taking university courses as a sophomore at his Muggle school!"

Minerva let out a low whistle. "Incredible. He has so much potential. It kills me that Albus couldn’t be here to train him himself. He would speak of Harry all the time. You know, I think that he somehow knew that he wouldn’t be here to train Harry himself; I wish now that I had remembered more of what Albus said about the boy-"

She trailed off as Harry caught up with them at the gargoyle statue that marked the entrance to the headmistress’s office. Whispering "Oberon", Minerva led them all though the entrance and up the twisting staircases to the office. Settling down at her desk, she ruffled through her papers, pulling out a thick, yellowish, envelope, with "Mr. Harry Potter" written on the thick parchment in sparkling emerald green ink.

She handed it wordlessly to Harry, who slowly traced over his name with a finger before flipping the envelope and breaking the wax seal that held it closed. Removing the enclosed sheets of parchment, he unfolded his letter and began to read.

 

Dear Mr. Potter,

If you are reading this letter, it means that I, unfortunately, am no longer around. Although I bet my death was not much of a pleasant experience, I almost look forward to my impending mortality, for really, if you think about it, death is nothing but the next great adventure, and I really do feel that I have experienced enough here on Earth to accept that adventure with open arms.

Enough about me, though, for it is you that I wish to speak of. Harry, you are a wizard unlike any other. Tom Riddle, who we all know now as Lord Voldemort, knew what I am about to tell you, and I am afraid that that is the reason for your parents’ deaths and the curious scar that currently adorns your forehead. You see, Harry, your father’s family is a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor. Coupled with this, deeply buried on your mother’s side, you also carry the blood of the great Merlin himself. Apart, your respective families blood meant nothing, except extraordinary prestige, but combined, as in your case, it can and has resulted in an extraordinary amount of power.

There was a prophecy made by a centaur a couple of months before your birth about the "scion of the Gryffin and the Master" who would purge the world of all evil, not once, but twice. It was foretold that this child would harbor immense power, power unlike any we’ve ever seen, perhaps, even greater than Merlin himself. This child would bring about the fall of the dark side and be marked by lightning. As you can see, Harry, this prophecy is obviously about you.

I know you are probably confused at this point, but all will be revealed, I hope, in due time. You are wondering how you can catch up all the time you’ve lost and, probably, a bit about your status here in the wizarding world. I assure you, that you needn’t worry about much schoolwork, for as long as I am not too far off my mark, you will never have much trouble learning-magic will be a second nature to you, much like your Muggle studies, I presume.

There is one more thing, however. It is my gut instinct that leads me to tell you this, although what I am about to tell you is not concrete fact. I believe that the night Voldemort was defeated, he transferred some of his power to you, perhaps unwittingly. If I am not mistaken, you will have a vague recollection of already attending Hogwarts, memories, which will come to you courtesy of Tom Riddle’s seven years here. Harry, if you begin to exhibit any extremely odd behaviors or dreams of any sort, I implore you to come directly to Professor McGonagall. I have left another letter of instruction for her if this case were to prove positive.

Above all else, Harry, I must tell you to be on your guard. Evil will never be fully defeated, and you are extremely powerful-- you will always be watched. Trust in yourself and in your teachers; they will always be here for you. Professor Lupin was a very close friend of your father’s. I believe his door will always be open if you are ever in need of some advice.

Good luck, Harry. I know you will become the wizard we all know you can be.

Albus Dumbledore

 

Harry sat stone still, not even daring to lift his eyes from the paper. "How?" Harry muttered.

"Excuse me, Harry?’ Remus asked softly.

Still looking down, Harry continued, "How can this be real? I-I’ve never been powerful. How can I be this prophesized...thing?"

"Haven’t you ever felt it? Felt that every time you were in direct danger, something always happened, something inexplicable, that would help keep you safe?" Minerva questioned imploringly.

"I-I don’t know. Is this like turning into a whale to save Danny when I was little?"

At this both Minerva and Remus’s jaws dropped. "You can turn into a whale?" Minerva asked weakly.

Harry looked nervous. "I think so. I only did it once, though. It was so odd; I remember wishing desperately to just swim faster and then poof! I was a whale. Actually, I was quite scared, come to think of it."

"Do you think that you could turn into anything else, Harry? I mean, if you really tried?" Remus demanded.

Harry blinked. "Um-I could try, I guess, maybe. I never really thought about it."

"Okay, Harry. Try to turn yourself into a stag. Do you think you can?"

Looking nonplussed, Harry closed his eyes. Almost immediately, a palpable wave of energy surrounded his body. As Remus and Minerva looked on in amazement, the air shimmered around Harry as his human form swiftly transformed to that of a robust, young, stag’s. On the stag’s lily-white forehead, directly above its sparkling emerald green eyes, a thin lightning bolt lay, etched into the skin.

As quickly as he had initially transformed, Harry became Harry again. Looking around wildly, Harry’s almost frantic voice screeched, "I’m not supposed to be able to do that, Professor! People don’t go around changing into animals!" He sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

For a moment, there was absolute silence as the two professors simply stared at the fifteen year-old boy. Finally, Minerva spoke. "Well, there are animagi, but I really don’t believe that anyone can do that."

And utter silence reigned again.

* * * * *

Later that evening, after Harry had been given an impromptu tour of the grounds and put to bed in a spare bedroom, Minerva and Remus met in the headmistress’s office.

"I can’t believe it, Remus. How can he do that? No one can have more than one animagus form! It’s impossible!"

Remus looked worried. "I know, I know. I don’t understand it, either. He is astonishingly powerful-more so than I ever dreamed. He’s got to be trained quickly, Minerva."

"You’re right. We’ll catch him up to fourth year levels in the next month. He’ll start there when term begins. Although, it would be quite interesting to see how he does on his O.W.L.s. Perhaps we can give them to him sometime after term starts and see what he gets. Maybe we should advance him a year if he does well."

"I don’t really know what to do. But, you’re right-I would love to see how Harry would do on the O.W. Ls. I think that could work, Minerva. Start him in fourth year classes, just to get him acclimatized and then, if his O. W. L scores are satisfactory, transfer him to fifth year classes."

"Sounds good to me. You’ll be taking him for his wand tomorrow, right?"

"Right. We’ve got to start his lessons and he’ll most definitely need a wand. I was thinking though, instead of buying the rest of his supplies now, we could send him back to Diagon Alley a day before term to get the rest of his supplies and then ride the train to school. It is where most students meet their closest friends. I’d like to see Harry get that chance, especially with him just beginning."

‘You’re right, Remus, although, when he does go back, I’d like you to be with him, just in case. You never know what the press will be like-especially if word that Harry Potter is back in England."

"Of course. That dratted Rita Skeeter would be salivating to get her talons in him. Perhaps he should take another name for a little while? For his own protection, at least."

"That might be a good idea, Remus. However, it’s getting late-we better call it a night. I’ve got lessons to plan and you’ve got a trip to Diagon Alley bright and early tomorrow morning."

Remus smiled. "Of course, Headmistress. Good night."

* * * * *

Sunlight streamed through the elegant crimson draperies that adorned Harry’s bedroom. Groaning weakly, Harry pulled himself out of his bed. Stumbling over to his trunk, he pulled out a t-shirt and a clean pair of jeans. Wardrobe in hand, he continued to his private bathroom, taking a quick shower and getting dressed for the day. Then he quickly set off in search for Remus-he had mentioned something about a wand.

Eventually finding his way to the Great Hall, Harry plopped down at an empty place beside Remus. "’Lo." He muttered through a yawn.

"Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep all right? You seem a bit tired today." Remus asked with a twinkle in his eye, taking in Harry’s awfully tired face.

"What? Oh-yeah. It’s just jet lag or something. I feel like it should be about four o’ clock in the morning."

At this, Minerva laughed. "Actually, I don’t think you’re very far off with that estimate, Harry."

Harry groaned. "I’m so tired! I wanted to stay in bed, but it felt like there was some weird force that was forcing me to wake up-like I had to get out of bed."

"Oh, that’s the alarm clock charm. I guess we forgot to take it off that bed. We cast it on all the beds so that no students sleep in and miss classes."

"Now you tell me." Harry mumbled.

"It’s not so bad, Harry. Now, you’re up early enough for us to beat the crowds in Diagon Alley. Hurry up and eat; I want to get going."

Harry’s eyes widened in amazement as a large plate heaped high with scrumptious looking pancakes and sausages materialized in front of him. "Whoa." He cried, staring at his newly arrived food for a minute before digging in ravenously.

* * * * *

A half-hour later, Remus and Harry were once again walking down the road that led to Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks, and its public flooport. Harry was practically giddy at the prospect of buying a wand, and was amusing Remus quite greatly with his constant line of questions.

"Where will we buy my wand, Remus? Are there a lot of stores that sell them? What if I don’t get the right one and I can’t do magic? And-wait a second, how am I going to pay for this, anyway? I haven’t got any money; at least I don’t think I do. Uncle Vernon and I didn’t even think about it when I was leaving. It’ll take at least two days to get some money wired to me, what am I going to do then?" By this point, Harry was looking quite scared about the prospect of losing his not-yet-bought wand.

"Whoa, Harry, slow down! Trust me, you’ll get the perfect wand and you’ll be great with it. Don’t worry about money-we’ll just stop at Gringotts and get some out of your vault."

"Gringotts?"

"It’s a wizard’s bank. Your parents left quite a bit of money there for you, so I reckon you shouldn’t have to worry about that for a while, especially with the interest that it’s been collecting for fourteen years. Your family was quite well off, you know. I’ve got the key with me so it’ll be no trouble."

They continued the rest of the walk in silence, Harry all the while wondering what other sort of mystical surprises he would find as he continued his journey deeper into the magical world.

When they reached the Three Broomsticks, Remus pulled out a small pouch and handed it to Harry. "Here’s your Floo Powder, Harry. You know how to work it by now."

Breathing deeply, Harry threw the glittering powder onto the flames, making them burn their iridescent green. Yelling "Diagon Alley!" he jumped in and let himself be carried away.

Harry tumbled headfirst out of the fireplace, vaguely sensing Remus land behind him. Shaking off his clothes, Harry stood up, feeling quite foolish that he was on the floor. He gazed around the interior of the pub that they were in; it wasn’t all that different from the Three Broomsticks. "Where are we, Remus?"

"This is The Leaky Cauldron, Harry. Just follow me and we can get to Diagon Alley though here."

Trying desperately to ignore the strange glances he was drawing from the other patrons, Harry looked straight ahead, flowing Remus out into a small bricked-in courtyard. Remus whipped out his wand, tapping the wall in a strange pattern and the wall rearranged itself, creating a large archway that revealed a bustling street on the other side.

Feeling awfully touristy, Harry followed Remus again, trying really hard not to gawk at the things some of the shops had for sale. Remus came to a stop in front of a pristine white building that stood tall among the small, very Dickensinian looking stores that surrounded it. An intricate looking plaque adorned the heavy, glass-plated doors, warning all potential thieves about Gringotts very foolproof protection system. Standing guard at the doors stood an extremely odd looking creature, impeccably dressed in a stately looking uniform. As Harry and Remus walked swiftly past, Harry could not resist whispering, "what is that?"

"That’s a goblin, Harry. Quite magical. Like the sign said, you’d be quite foolish to try and rob Gringotts."

Harry nodded his acquiescence, stepping slowly behind Remus as they approached an open counter.

"Hello." Remus said jovially to the goblin behind the counter who grimaced in return. "We’d like to make a withdrawal from Mr. Harry Potter’s vault."

The goblin looked sharply at Remus for a moment before croaking, "Key, please?"

Remus fished about his pockets, pulling out a tiny golden key and pushing it across the counter to the goblin. He peered at it a second, then deciding, "that seems in order." He directed them to another goblin, who led them to a creaky-looking cart. Hopping aboard, Harry settled in a front seat and laughing mirthfully at Remus, who was standing on the platform, steadfastly refusing to get in the cart.

"Come on, Remus! It’ll be fun!"

Remus glared sharply at Harry, "Yeah, sure. I’ve hated these things since I was young. James and Sirius used to make fun of me all the time-kind of like you’re doing now."

"Who’s Sirius?" Harry questioned as Remus tentatively entered the Gringotts cart.

Remus paled. Harry couldn’t tell if his sudden lack of color had to do with his question, or the fact that their goblin had just started the cart up, sending them on a crazy journey at breakneck speeds down an incredibly rickety path.

"I’ll tell you later." Remus choked out, ducking his head in his arms.

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry turned away from Remus, letting himself truly enjoy the ride. It was like flying-better than any roller coaster he’d ever been on before. Remus’s silence bothered him though; this was the second time that a "Sirius" had been mentioned, and both times, Remus had abruptly changed the subject. Something had to be deeply wrong, for Harry had gotten the impression that Remus was normally a very open and steadfast man, one who usually wouldn’t hide something big.

Harry was jerked out of his thoughts by the sudden stop of the cart. He looked over, watching the goblin leap out of the cart and meander over to a stone door set back into the tunnels of the cavern that they were currently in. Removing the tiny golden key from his uniform, the goblin unlocked the door, revealing an incredible wealth hidden behind the door.

Harry’s jaw dropped as he walked towards the vault. "Is this all mine?" He questioned weakly.

Even Remus seemed at a loss for words. "Yes-um, I guess you had better grab some. You won’t need much-- we’re only getting your wand today. You’ll be returning a day or so before term to get the rest of your supplies."

Drawing his eyes away from the immense treasure laid out before him, Harry questioned, "Why?"

"Because then you can ride the train like the rest of the students. It’s really a lot of fun. That’s where I met your father for the first time."

"Oh. I guess that’s all right then." He paused. "Remus, what are all these?" he said, walking towards his vault, which was filled with unrecognizable gold, silver, and bronze coins.

"Well, Harry. The large gold ones that seem to be in an extreme abundance here are called galleons. There are seventeen sickles to a galleon. The sickles are these silver ones here. And the little bronze ones are called knuts. There are twenty-seven knuts to a sickle. Got it, Harry?"

"Yeah, I think so. How many of these, um, galleons, do you think I’ll need today?"

Harry entered the vault, finding a little dragonhide pouch resting beside the door that would serve perfectly for carrying his money. Scooping up some galleons and throwing them in the bag, he took one quick last look around; inwardly marveling at the wealth he had suddenly come in to.

The trip back to the surface was mildly uneventful, unless you counted Remus’s mild exclamations of fright every time the cart scraped a corner. Exiting Gringotts and emerging into the bright sunlight, Harry and Remus wandered down the tiny streets, stopping every so often to look at some of the more interesting items for sale. Harry was particularly entranced by a spectacular looking broomstick that he could never imagine sweeping the floors with.

"Wow. What do they use that for?"

‘That’s a Firebolt, Harry. Best racing broom on the market. Very expensive."

"You can fly on that?" Harry asked.

Remus laughed. "Of course! How do you expect them to play Quidditch without brooms?"

"Awesome. Can I get one?"

"If you really want one, Harry. Your father was an amazing Quidditch player when we were at Hogwarts."

"Really? How do you play Quidditch?"

"It’s easy, but I’ll tell you when we get back to the school. I’ll even take you down to the Quidditch pitch so you can test out your new broom."

"Sounds good. So, I can get one then?"

Remus laughed. "Yeah, come on."

They entered the store. Harry wandered about, gazing raptly at all of the really cool flying equipment, while Remus headed to the counter.

"Hello." He said cheerfully. "We’re looking to buy a Firebolt."

At the word "Firebolt", the man’s eyes lit up considerably, no doubt thinking of the huge commission he was going to get off of selling the famous broom.

"Sure! Follow me! The display’s over here."

Remus followed the man, motioning for Harry to tag along beside him.

"These are some high-quality brooms here. Top of the line, used in all the World Cup matches, you know."

"Yeah. Now, this broom isn’t for me, it’s for my friend Harry, here, so you’d might as well ask him about the broom."

The man swiftly turned to Harry, firing off rapid questions at him. "Your weight? Height? Quidditch position?"

"Um, I’m 6’1, 135 pounds, and I don’t play Quidditch."

The man stopped abruptly. "Then whaddya need a Firebolt for?"

Harry blushed. "Well, I think I would like to play Quidditch, I’ve never flown before, though. Actually, just found out about this magic business a couple days ago."

The man laughed. "Yeah, whatever, sonny." He continued forward, stopping at a glorious display portraying the Firebolt in many exciting positions pertaining to Quidditch. "This is the Firebolt. Best broom money can buy. Pick one." He motioned to Harry, who stepped forward, amazed by the exquisite beauty of the shining brooms in front of him, he felt drawn to one in particular, so he reached over, plucking it from the display. It hovered waist-high, looking almost expectant, waiting for Harry to hop on and fly away.

"This is the one." Harry breathed.

The salesman stared oddly at Harry. "I’ve never seen a broom respond that quickly to anyone. You sure you haven’t played before?"

Harry shook his head, still staring at his broom, which, in his eyes, was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

"His father played for England a while back. I’m sure that’s where he gets it from." Remus interjected.

"Really?" The salesman and Harry chimed together. "What position did he play? The man continued, shooting a look at Harry.

"James was a chaser. Spanking good, really. Now, can we pay for this already? We’ve got other things to do."

"Right."

The man led them back to the counter, where he wrapped the broom carefully and presented it to Harry. "That’ll be 150 galleons, please."

Harry looked appalled. "Remus!" he whispered. "I’ve only got thirty or so with me!"

"Charge it to his Gringotts’ vault, please." Remus said loudly.

"Right-o. Name and number?"

Remus drew the key out of his robes, and read the number off of it. "Er-vault 123, Harry Potter."

The man dropped his quill. "Harry Potter?"

"Yes. It’s all in order, there should be no problem."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Sure. This is Harry Potter. Right. Now get out before I have to call the Ministry on you! Trying to scam me like that! Harry Potter, indeed."

Harry was livid. "I am Harry Potter, not that it’s really any concern of yours. Now, can I have my broom?"

"You can’t be Harry Potter. No one’s seen him for fourteen years, ever since he drove You-Know-Who away."

"Same guy, right in front of you. What proof do you need?" Harry was quite angry.

The man narrowed his eyes. "If you’re Harry Potter, then where’s your scar?"

Wordlessly, Harry reached up, pushing a thick lock of hair off of his forehead.

"Merf." The man warbled in shock.

"Can we just get out of here, Remus?"

Remus was scowling at the salesman. "Yes, Harry. He’s got your vault number; it’s all taken care of. Grab your broom and let’s go get your wand."

They left the shop, not looking back.

* * * * *

Harry and Remus traveled in silence until they reached Ollivander’s.

"This is it, Harry."

They pushed through the door, finding themselves in a tiny, dusty room. The walls were covered by hundreds of thin boxes. A little old man made his way to the front of the store. "May I help you?" he questioned.

"Yes. Hello, Mr. Ollivander. Harry here is in need of a wand."

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. I’ve been waiting for you."

Harry looked quickly at Remus, eyes wide. "Uh, huh."

"Don’t just stand there, Mr. Potter, hop up here so we can get your measurements."

"Oh, right."

Harry stepped onto a box in the center of the room. Mr. Ollivander pulled out a measuring tape. "Which is your wand arm, Mr. Potter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Which arm to you use to write?"

"Oh, either, really. I’m ambidextrous."

Ollivander’s tape measure clattered to the ground. Even Remus looked shocked.

"What?" Harry asked, looking nervous.

"Ambidexterity is a very rare trait amongst wizards, Mr. Potter. The choice of left hand or right hand often signifies a very similar power struggle within the wizard-that is, to go dark or light. It’s not something many people talk about. As far as I can remember, there has been only one ambidextrous wizard I’ve ever had in here; and Mr. Potter, I remember every wand I’ve ever sold."

Harry gulped. This couldn’t be good. "Oh. Um, can I still get my wand?"

"Of course, however, I must implore you to think hard about your place in this world, Mr. Potter. I sense a lot of power in you; it would be a shame to see you use it for the wrong reasons."

"I won’t."

"It’s good that you think that way, Mr. Potter. A lot of people look up to you. Best give them a reason to keep their faith."

A more subdued Harry accepted wand after wand that Mr. Ollivander handed to him; nothing seemed perfect.

Far from being upset about all the rejected wands, Mr. Ollivander, if anything, appeared more excited. "A tricky customer, yes, yes." He muttered as he nimbly crept about the shelves, plucking wands from their places as quickly as Harry could test them.

He paused suddenly, stopping in front of an extremely dusty box. "Holly and Phoenix feather." He whispered. Deliberating for a moment, he picked up the box, carrying it over to Harry. "I wonder-" he murmured, plucking the wand from its box and handing it to Harry.

The moment the wand touched his finger, Harry felt an incredible warmth come over his body, filling every pore with its light. He swung the wand upward; a stream of crimson and gold sparks following its path.

"Curiouser and curiouser." Mr. Ollivander whispered.

Still marveling at his new wand, Harry wondered, "What’s curious?"

Staring deeply at Harry, Mr. Ollivander replied, "Like I said before, I remember every wand I’ve sold, every single wand. It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in that wand gave one other, just one, and it is curious that you should be destined for that wand when its brother gave you that scar."

Harry shuddered. "Are you serious?"

"I never lie, Mr. Potter. All I ask is that you remember the advice I gave you today. You will have to make a lot of choices in your life; make sure you choose wisely."

Remus and Mr. Ollivander exchanged worried glances.

"That’ll be eight galleons, Mr. Potter."

Harry handed the gold over to the older man, and stumbled out of the shop.

"Harry-" Remus began.

Harry cut him off. "Please. I’d just like to go home, if that’s all right."

Remus nodded, and the two set off towards the Leaky Cauldron.

* * * * *