In the Midst of the Night

In the Midst of the Night

Chapter 2 - Wooden Sticks

Harry looked around cautiously, as if expecting something to jump out at him. There were racks upon racks of robes and materials and he wondered absently about what some of them were made of. They soon came to a stop and he was ushered onto a stool. The child stepped onto it reluctantly and avoided looking at himself in the mirror. When a tape measure appeared out of thin air, however, he looked up in surprise. It began zipping around him and he turned in circles, trying to follow its movement - that only made it move faster.

After several rounds of circling, he stopped, suddenly feeling dizzy, and almost fell off of the stool. There was a chuckle nearby as Madam Malkin steadied him and he pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Calm down child, you look like a puppy chasing its tail!" she laughed in amusement. He blushed right down to the raven colored roots of his hair. "It's only spelled to measure you, so hold still so it can do its job," said the woman, humor still present in her voice.

Harry stood stock still and watched with roaming eyes as the object flew around him. He was a naturally quiet child, but this strange occurrence just begged for a question. "Please, ma'am, how - how is it moving like that?"

The woman looked at him in bewilderment for a moment, before something seemed to dawn on her. "Did the professor not tell you, then, child?" she wondered.

He averted his gaze and watched the tape measure move around him. "Tell me what?"

She looked at him for a moment longer and, even though she hadn't thought it possible, he turned even redder. "Well, if no one has told you yet, I suppose I shouldn't either," said Madam Malkin carefully, as if choosing her words only at that moment. Well, wasn't she a lucky one today? One of the first to meet the Harry Potter, the boy who had been missing for nearly seven years!

The poor child, he probably hadn't ever encountered much, he seems so shy. Wonder where he's been all this time? she wondered.

Harry looked down at his shoes again and resisted the urge to look at the flying tape measure. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared! He jumped as if shocked and looked around for it. His gaze soon landed upon Madam Malkin and he could see the hints of a smile at the curving peaks of her lips. For the third time in ten minutes, he blushed. I s'pose that's another one of those things she can't tell me about, he thought with dismay.

"All right, dear," said Madam Malkin, clapping her hands together with a smile. "Let's fit some robes on you, eh?" Harry walked with her down a long hallway and wondered exactly what these 'robes' would be like. Would they look like Professor Snape's? - Billowy and ominous looking? Or like the styles the other strange people on the streets' were like?

The duo went into one room and stopped before a huge square table where scissors, like the tape measures, were soaring around with needles sewing the cut out pieces together. These startling objects, though, were cutting various materials and fabrics of every color and pattern and looked quite dangerous to Harry, even worse than the tape measures. He stopped at the doorway of the room and watched Madam Malkin take out a wooden stick, much like Professor Snape's, but where his was a deep chestnut black color, hers was mahogany colored. As he stood there feeling like a trespasser, she muttered a few indiscernible words and another pair of scissors joined the others in cutting black fabric.

The child's eyes were wide when the woman turned around to face him. She smiled gently. "Come, my dear! It's only magic!" said she as if it were so simplistic as that. Harry merely nodded as if he understood, but was in utter turmoil inside.

'Magic'? 'Magic'?! What in heaven's name was 'magic'? What she did could only be described as the scary things that the professor and the man in his dreams' were - positively frightening. And she said it so simply! As if it was a common occurrence! By golly, she said 'magic' for Christ's sake!

Poor Harry was chewing on his lip so very passionately as if it would put the mystification welling within him at rest. He shook his head, looking like he was trying to drive out his confusion and wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into.

"Now, just sit tight for a moment, Harry, I'll be right back. I've got to get a few more supplies for your other clothes," she told him with that practiced smile of hers, then left him in the room with the flying scissors that cut materials on their own.

Harry, looking around for a chair, could find none and busied himself with trying to find the place farthest from the 'magic' scissors. Seeing that he was in it, he stood against the wall next to his doorway and continued to chew on his lip with a renewed vehemence. It seemed as if she would never come back after only three minutes of waiting and watching the 'magic' scissors like they were going to chase after him at any moment.

When she finally returned, Madam Malkin found the famous little Harry Potter cowered against the wall, looking as if he wished he could melt into it. The warmth of sympathy arose within her chest and she smiled softly at him. She held out her hand in a beckoned towards him tenderly. "It's all right, child," she said. "Come, I believe your robes are just about cut and I've got some clothes that will fit you quite nicely."

He walked towards her, making sure to keep the woman before him like a barrier between him and the terrible scissors. She picked up the newly cut pieces of black fabric, the escorted the boy to the dressing rooms. After handing him the undergarments for the robes, she said, "Now, just try those on and tell me how they fit you, all right?" she asked. The child looked down at the clothes in wonderment and she smiled comfortingly. "Do you know how to dress yourself, dear?"

Harry looked up and nodded at this quickly, turning to go into the dressing room. He closed the door and found himself looking into the mirror. Confronted with the unfamiliar image of himself, he took an involuntary step back. Did he really look like that? No wonder the bigger boys picked on him so much, he was so small compared to the others! Even Aden was taller than he was. It was then that he noticed that his face was unmarred. What had happened to all the bruises and scratches that he felt with every movement? He lifted his shirt slightly and touched his ribs - they seared as if on fire and he bit down on his lip to suppress a cry of pain. After the red haze that clouded his vision disappeared, Harry looked up and saw no sign of a bruise on his abdomen. His ribs were sticking out like always, but he couldn't see anything other than unblemished skin.

He jumped when he heard a knock on the door. "Ready to show me your first outfit, Harry?" came Madam Malkin's voice.

"A-almost!" he replied, quickly pulling a pair of jeans and a blue shirt from the pile. Hastily, he pulled on the clothes, which felt strange, being a perfect fit, and opened the door.

Madam Malkin met him with a smile and chuckled as he blushed and tugged absently at the hem of the T-shirt. "Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You look marvelous! And the fit is perfect!" She walked into the room and picked up the rest of the clothes and put them aside. Next, she handed him some of the funny robes that had just earlier been cut by the 'magic' scissors. He stared at them, as if afraid they would bite, and took a slow step backwards. "It's all right, child," she said gently, and held out the robes. "There's nothing wrong with them, I assure you." Her gaze drifted to a nearby clock. "Quickly now, Professor Snape will be here for you at any moment. Just slip these on over those clothes and you'll be all set."

Hesitantly, Harry took the offered clothes and locked himself up in the dressing room once more. He stared at them a moment longer before reluctantly putting them on. They fit quite nicely and when he showed them to Madam Malkin, his cheeks flushed with heat as she mercilessly bombarded him with compliments. As they walked towards the front of the shop, they saw the potions master walk in.

"All ready, I presume?" he asked with a mere glance at Harry and his new robes.

Nodding, the woman said, "Yes, Professor. I'll just write out your receipt and you can be on your way."

Severus nodded and, after paying the seamstress, thanked her stiffly and told Harry to follow him out the door. "We're going to Ollivanders to get you a wand," Snape told the child and they proceeded down the alley, past the bustling people and the many shops.

They soon arrived at the designated place and walked inside. They were greeted by a man sitting behind a desk and looking at a paper called...Harry peered closer, trying to read the letters. The Daily Prophet was the title and the boy blinked. He had never heard of that particular paper, but that didn't seem too important, he had never heard of many papers besides.

"Severus Snape," said Ollivander upon greeting. "Thirteen inch ebony with a dragon heartstring."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Severus nodded curtly. "Mr. Potter is in need of a wand," he told the other man.

Ollivander's eyes wandered casually to Harry who tried inching behind Severus as he did in Madam Malkin's shop. And, once again, the professor took a step away, not glancing towards the child. Harry was left looking down at his shoes in a bashful sort of way. "All right then," said the professor, pretending to ignore the little occurrence. "Come this way and we'll find your perfect match."

After a long moment, Harry finally stepped forward, prodded on by an impatient Severus with a random remark that seemed to intimidate the boy to no end. Ollivander took out a box full of long sticks much like the professor's and Harry found himself wondering what exactly it was that he was supposed to do. The strange looking man with seemingly pure white hair, handed one of the 'wands' to Harry who looked at it with a mixture of horror and dread. "Just give it a swish then, lad," said Ollivander, his eyes twinkling. Severus noted that he probably did not overlook the pleading expression upon the boy's face.

Harry just stared mutely at the wand and took a step backwards. Severus was there and put a hand at the small of his back, urging him forward, but the child jumped quickly away. "Potter!" snapped Professor Snape, finally loosing patience. "Take the blasted wand and give it a bloody swish! We've a meeting with the headmaster at quarter 'til one and you have yet to pick your wand!"

"It is actually the wand that picks the wizard," said Ollivander gently towards the boy, but Harry stepped forward, suddenly impeccably frightened of the strange man with the billowing black robes. He accepted the presented wand with trembling fingers. After no result became of his swishing it to and fro as Ollivander demonstrated, Harry only slightly relaxed - his fear of the wooden sticks slightly dispersing. Perhaps the strange 'wands' weren't as evil as his dreams portrayed them to be. However, the man earlier dubbed Severus Snape did hurt Mr. McKinnon...but Harry inwardly chased that thought away. That was all right - he didn't much like Mr. McKinnon; he was a bad man.

Wooden stick after wooden stick was placed in his palm and with each, he gave a half-hearted swish. After a while, and after Severus began rapping his wand against the desk, Ollivander paused and hauled the two new boxes away. He looked around upon the shelves for a moment before his eyes transfixed upon a certain wand. His gaze transferred to Harry and they took up a curious expression. "Perhaps...?" he began, but did not finish his sentence. "Yes," he proclaimed to no one and reached up for a solitary box, much smaller than the rest.

He handed the new wand to Harry who suddenly felt his stomach churn in anticipation. Perhaps what? thought the boy, taking the wooden stick in hand. Immediately, the room seemed to flash with green light and his eyes widened. A haze began to fill his mind all he could hear were familiar screams and the horrible laughing voices that haunted his dreams. He didn't know that his own screams joined the ones only he could hear until he dropped the wand and ran out of the store, still wearing his voice away.

He raced into the busy streets of Diagon Alley and ran and ran until he ended up surrounded by what seemed like thousands of people, all trying to crush him. Harry rushed towards a corner by a shop and sat down, trying to get as small as possible. There were too many people! Where was he to go? By now, he had stopped screaming and had reduced his fright down to sobs that racked his body. He buried his head upon his arms and tucked up his legs. For a long while, he sat like that, terrified to face reality.

Wooden sticks are horrible! They're horrible and they're evil and all they'll do is hurt me. I'm never, never going back! he cried despairingly. He didn't know how much time had passed when he finally looked up with a tear stained face. After noticing that the street covered with people was no longer as crowded as before, he assumed it had been quite a while.

"Hey, you there," came a voice to his right. Harry turned to look at the owner of the voice and jumped up quickly when he noticed that the boy was talking to him. "What are you doing, crying over here?" wondered the other child. This boy looked young, maybe younger than Harry's friend Aden, but the sophisticated air he sustained seemed to make him look older.

Harry noticed the boy looking at him expectantly and he stuttered out an answer. "Er - just...I don't know," he finished finally. His cheeks were red, he knew, for they felt hot and he was feeling a bit embarrassed at having been addressed so randomly for crying.

The other boy frowned in consideration. "Men aren't supposed to cry," said he in a serious tone, looking down his small nose at Harry. "That's what my father says." He paused and stepped forward after looking around, seemingly as if to make sure no one was watching. "My name's Draco Malfoy, what's yours?" he inquired, holding out his hand stiffly.

Harry looked at the hand in wonder, before slipping his own into it for a quick shake. "Harry," he replied softly, feeling sheepish. He then wiped away the traces of his tears and sniffed.

The boy named Draco Malfoy looked around again, yet another frown creasing his brows. "Where're your parents? Surely you aren't here by yourself? My father says to never go off by myself - ever."

"I - I ran away," said Harry hesitantly.

Draco tilted his head to the side, peering intently at this strange boy named Harry. He looked quite lost and quite scared of something. "You ran away..." repeated Draco slowly, tasting the words. "Why?"

Harry looked at the stranger and took in the silver blonde hair and blue grey eyes. Though they seemed to look like ice, they were a great deal warmer than Mr. McKinnon's. He was a tiny creature, yet he acted so mature that Harry didn't know what to make of him. "I was afraid," admitted Harry, almost inaudibly. Draco stepped closer, dramatically leaning his ear towards the other boy. "I was afraid," reiterated Harry with another sniff at the frightful memory.

The blonde headed boy nodded and stepped back. "You were afraid, and you ran away," said he. "What were you afraid of?" This question, however, Harry would not answer, and thus shook his head vehemently. Draco sighed and rolled his eyes up heavenwards, as if pleading for the heavens to save him. "Well, perhaps your parents are looking for you. Oughtn't you try and find them now?" he asked.

With another sniff, Harry dropped his gaze. "I don't have any parents. I came here with - with Professor Snape."

At this proclamation, Draco's eyes lit up. "Oh! You did, did you? I know the p'fessor! He comes to the manor and gives me wicked little objects that do funny things! Come, let's find him!" said Draco with excitement at seeing his long time friend. He turned to go and walked a few paces before noticing that the other boy wasn't following. "Well, aren't you coming?" Harry brushed more tears from his eyes and shook his head quickly. Draco scowled. "Why not?"

"B-because," said Harry, as if that explained it all.

"Look, he's not scary at all!" said Draco. He walked over and took hold of the other boy's arm and tugged, trying to drag him down the street, but Harry jumped and moved away. Draco looked at him curiously. "What's wrong with you?"

Harry once again flushed with mortification and scuffed a foot. "Nothing," he whispered. "I -," but he got cut off when a hand came down on his shoulder.

"P'fessor!" exclaimed Draco with glee and he ran towards the elder man with a bright smile.

Severus resisted the urge to laugh as the child's hands wrapped tightly about his waist. "Sorry, Draco, I haven't another gift for you - it's quite a surprise seeing you here today," said the professor.

Draco laughed. "Father let me come along today because mother is at a luncheon and didn't want me to stay alone with the house elves and ghosts." He halted briefly before saying, "Are you sure you don't have another gadget with you?"

The man just shook his head with smirk, and then turned his gaze upon Harry who had stepped away from them both. He didn't look at either of them, but rather everywhere else besides as he held his arm as if it stung. "Potter, why did you run off?" asked Severus sternly. Draco looked to and from the two in wonder. The potions master brandished Harry's wooden stick. "I've paid for your wand, but now we're late in meeting Albus because you decided to take a stroll without me." Harry sniffed and kept his gaze fixed firmly upon his shoes. "I'm sorry, Draco, but I must cut this meeting short. We've an urgent meeting to attend to at the school. Go and find your father," said Severus.

The child looked upon the elder man with a pout. "When will you come by the manor?" he wondered.

At this, Severus was tempted to smile. "Soon, I promise," was his reply. "Now go find your father before he gets angry with you."

Draco nodded grudgingly. "All right, but only because you promised," said he, then, with a nod at both the professor and at Harry, he turned and walked away.

Severus turned a scowl at Harry and bid him to follow. The child did as he was told without question, but his sniffs could still be heard. "Why, may I ask, did you run off like that?" asked Snape after a few moments of walking down the alley.

Minutes passed and he thought that the child wouldn't answer, but Harry soon said, "I don't like wands."

The man frowned. "What's wrong with wands?"

Harry sniffed and wiped away yet more tears. "They - they're scary," he whispered and Severus almost did not hear him.

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Wands are not scary. Why would you think that?"

"I always see the green light, and I hear the scary screams," admitted Harry staring down at his shoes. Tears trickled down his cheeks and dripped off the tip of his nose. "The scary man hurts those people with his wooden stick," said the boy almost inaudibly. "It hurts my head and -," suddenly, he stopped and looked up quickly at Severus with wide emerald green eyes that were welled up with tears.

Oh no! He had done it this time! Now the professor would be angry with him! Mr. McKinnon always got angry with him when he spoke about the scary light and his dreams. What had he done?!

Harry saw the man's hand reach out and cried out as he stumbled backwards onto his rear. The professor frowned and made to reach for him again, but Harry jumped up and raced away, fearing the inevitable assault. He had to run - far, far away. And he did...he ran until his breaths came in ragged gasps. Only then did he stop and he found himself in a dark alley, with no one he knew anywhere near. He sank down upon the ground in a corner behind a garbage can and buried his face in his hands as sobs racked his body.

What had he done?

~*~