Chapter 11: To a Home I Should Have Had
This was his first somewhat voluntary visit to Knockturn Alley. His first trip here was memorable, for all the wrong reasons, and Harry was hopeful that today would be different, though he certainly was not revelling in the thought of encountering another hag trying to sell him her wares.
Already, he had been to Diagon Alley to purchase the various Christmas gifts he needed to, and had even entered the apothecary there, but had gotten quite the bad feeling about enquiring about his basilisk ingredients.
He had, of course, consulted the current law with regards to such a thing. It was not illegal to own, possess or trade any single part of the creature, but it simply did not feel as though a place in Diagon Alley was to go.
As such, he found himself in the shady streets of the adjoining one with his robes pulled over his head as he mustered up the courage to enter a rather dubious-looking shop that advertised itself as an apothecary of sorts.
It didn't use the word 'apothecary' in its name, but the windows were full of all manner of plants, bloods, and even venoms, so Harry felt this may be the place he was looking for.
Releasing a deep breath, he braced himself and pushed the door open, an unpleasant smell filling his nose before he'd even crossed the threshold.
"Good afternoon," a rather rotund man with a dirty, white apron greeted him. "What can I do for you?"
Evidently, it was commonplace for one to enter his shop, concealing their identity.
"I wanted to ask what the current price of basilisk venom is," Harry explained.
The man puffed his cheeks out dramatically.
"Depends," he grunted, folding his arms.
"On?"
"Depends where it comes from, the proof, the age, and so on," the man huffed. "If you want something as little as 1% venom and 99% dilution on the lower end of quality, it's cheaper. If you wanted 20% venom with an 80% dilution, that would cost you considerably more."
This was not the conversation Harry was expecting.
"What about pure venom?" he asked.
The proprietor guffawed, his large belly bouncing up and down rhythmically.
"Not a chance," he said eventually. "You won't get anything pure, not unless you own one of the bloody farms," he added with a grumble.
"Farms?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, the venom farms," the shopkeeper tutted irritably. "You know, the place where they hatch them and milk them. Greedy bastards they are."
That was news to Harry. He hadn't expected there to be such a thing as basilisk farms.
An almost amusing image of dozens of enormous serpents slithering free in a field came to the forefront of his mind, and he shook his head.
No, that couldn't be right.
"How do they farm them?"
"Who are you, the bloody aurors?" the man snapped.
"No, I'm just curious," Harry replied.
The man muttered under his breath.
"Horrible places, these farms. They hatch them, cut their eyes out, and milk them until they die a few years later," he explained, "and then charge us a fortune for the product. It's a dangerous job, but one that pays well."
"They only live for a few years?" Harry asked.
"At most," the shopkeeper reiterated. "It's probably for the best. If one of them things were to get free, it would raise hell. That's why they're bloody protected. No one knows where these farms are, but I can tell you one thing, they aren't close. If you need product, you send an owl. The bird doesn't come back, but your item arrives about two months later."
Harry shook his head at the information.
It sounded like an awful practice.
"So how much for the best stuff you can get?"
The man snorted.
"The going rate is about 8 galleons per 10 millilitres. The most diluted is 2 galleons."
That was expensive on the higher end, especially with how valuable a galleon was here.
"If I had 10 millilitres of pure, undiluted venom. How much would that be?"
"Like I said, there's no such thing," the man said dismissively, "but I'll humour you. Something like that, probably about 40-60 Galleons per 10 millilitres. If, however, something became less of a commodity, the price would go down. The less there is in the market, the better."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"What about this?" he asked offering the man the small sample he had taken. Coincidentally, it was around 10mls in volume.
The shopkeeper frowned as he took the sample and held it up to the light.
"This is pure," he whispered, his gaze shifting to Harry, "and thick. Bloody hell, how did you get it? How old is the specimen?"
"I killed it," Harry answered simply. "The snake was around a thousand-years-old."
The man's eyes bulged almost comically.
"Merlin, if I wasn't seeing this for myself, I wouldn't believe it."
"So, what is it worth?" Harry pressed once more.
The man shook his head.
"Depends on how much you have, and how much of it you want to sell. Like I said, the more you flood the market with it, the less valuable it will be."
"Say, I had a litre," Harry urged.
"Then you could expect around 5,000 galleons," the man said thoughtfully. "Bloody hell, you'd do well for yourself. That would set you up for some years."
That was a good price, much more than he was expecting.
"Just out of curiosity, say I had 25 litres of it."
"Then your rate would drop," the shopkeeper said with a frown. "Not that you'd have any reason to flood the market with the stuff. You could sell a litre every decade and live comfortably."
"Won't it spoil?"
The man shook his head.
"Basilisk venom doesn't spoil, that is the beauty of the stuff. The question is, do you really have that much of it?"
"Perhaps," Harry responded coyly.
"Then I would keep your trap shut about it," the man advised. "You'll have the bloody farmers and sorts after you. Me knowing is already too much."
"So, how would I sell it?"
The man tapped the top of his counter, pondering the predicament.
"I may know a few contacts," he mused aloud, "but if I help you, I want a fee."
"Of course, you do," Harry sighed. "And what would you expect?"
"25%," the man answered.
"No chance. I'll give you 3%."
The man laughed.
"I'll take fifteen."
"Alright, you'll take two."
The man frowned questioningly.
"That's not how this works. I want fifteen."
"I'll give you one, or I'll take it elsewhere. I'm sure there are some other shady gits that know people too," Harry retorted, snatching the sample from the counter, and heading towards the door.
"Bloody hell, five!" the man called.
Harry nodded.
"That seems fair," he conceded.
The man shook his head irritably.
"I'll need the sample to show them."
"Then you can buy it from me, straight down the middle of your estimation. 50 Galleons, please?" Harry replied, holding out his hand expectantly.
"I don't just have fifty galleons!" the shopkeeper sputtered.
"What do you have?"
"Maybe ten at most," the man answered, checking the contents of his till.
"Alright, I'll take ten as a sign of good faith. If you want to make more than another 30 galleons or so, then you won't try to rip me off. How long before I can expect an update?"
"Pay me a visit just after Christmas," the man replied. "That will give me time to put the feelers out."
"So, January?"
The man nodded.
"That will do."
"And what about the skin and fangs?"
"There's not much money in the fangs," the shopkeeper explained. "The farms practically give them away for ornamental purposes. The skin isn't much good either, not unless you want a jacket or something like that," he finished with a chuckle.
"Fair enough," Harry returned. "I'll see you in January."
"You will," the man agreed, "and remember, not a word to anyone if you know what is good for you."
"I know," Harry sighed as he reached the door, pausing as a question came to him. "Out of interest, what do people use the venom for?"
"It's only the best pest repellent," the shopkeeper answered with a grin. "What, were you expecting it to be used as poison, or for other nefarious deeds?"
"Yes," Harry answered simply.
"No. basilisk venom can't be hidden in a drink or anything like that. It's too volatile, and the culprit would be easily traced. Very few can afford it, and you wouldn't use it for that, not when there are easier, and cheaper options available."
"I suppose that's true," Harry conceded, taking his leave from the shop.
It had been a strange few moments with the man.
He hadn't been aware of the different dilutions of the venom, or much else of what he had learned, the knowledge of these farms and how they were run not sitting well with him at all.
However, it was the negotiations that stuck with him.
He had never done such a thing, but it was as though it came naturally to him, almost as naturally as it would have the charismatic Tom Riddle.
He paused at the thought.
Could that have been another effect of the ritual?
He couldn't be certain, but it seemed he had another thing to discuss with the Flamels when he saw them in the coming days.
(Break)
"Those doubles fry my brain," Minerva sighed as she, Charlus, Augusta, and Poppy left the classroom.
The former nodded his agreement.
"Sometimes, I regret taking Arithmancy," he grumbled. "The double periods just make it worse. How the hell are we expected to just sit there for two hours as she reels off numbers and formulas like that?"
"Oh, stop whinging," Poppy giggled. "It's fascinating. I wish they did triple lessons."
Charlus eyed the girl as if she had sprouted a second head on her shoulders.
"I can't agree with you, Poppy," Minerva broke in. "I bet Harry is laughing it up that he only has one elective."
"Lucky git," Charlus agreed. "Where is the sod anyway?"
"He said he will meet us in the Great Hall for dinner. He wants to complete his homework before the holidays."
Charlus shook his head.
"If he wasn't up before the crack of dawn doing Merlin-knows-what instead of his homework, he'd be months ahead of us all."
"He's still not sleeping?"
"No," Charlus confirmed. "Maybe three or four hours a night at most."
"That can't be healthy," Augusta interjected, looking questioningly towards Poppy.
"That depends on the person," the girl said thoughtfully. "There are reports of people that practice the Mind Arts needing less sleep than normal, and some people just recover quickly from the day with little. Harry doesn't ever seem tired."
"No, and he practices Occlumency at least," Charlus explained. "I've seen him meditate."
"Where would he learn that?" Augusta asked.
Charlus shrugged.
"That's not my business, but he's not making a secret of it. If he was, he wouldn't do it so openly."
"True," Augusta acknowledged. "He's such a mystery that one."
Minerva said nothing.
If their friends knew just how mysterious he was, what Augusta had said would be the understatement of the century.
"So, he just might not need that much sleep?" she asked, purposely steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.
"I imagine so," Poppy replied.
"Not that it matters," Charlus added. "He's a dedicated student, so I suppose that's his motivation to not lay in bed. I only get around six hours myself."
"Then you're as abnormal as each other," Poppy declared. "Come on, I'm hungry, and we don't want to be hanging around the Great Hall too long."
The others agreed wholeheartedly and followed the girl as she made her way towards the Gryffindor table where Harry was already waiting for them.
"Productive afternoon?" Charlus asked.
Harry nodded.
"More than I was expecting it to be," he replied, helping himself to an obscene amount of roast beef and mashed potatoes. "How was Arithmancy?"
"Don't," Charlus implored. "Two hours of that twice a week will haunt me for the rest of my days."
Harry laughed, though frowned when Augusta broke into the conversation.
"Do you practice occlumency?" she asked, ever her blunt self.
"Augusta!" Minerva chided.
Harry waved her off.
"It's fine," he assured her. "What makes you think I do?"
"Well, you don't sleep much, and he said he's seen you meditating," she added, jerking a thumb in Charlus's direction.
The Potter heir offered him an apologetic look.
"I do," Harry answered simply. "I don't know how good I am, but I practice every day."
"Impressive," Augusta declared. "My father is an excellent occlumens and he says it's really hard. He's going to teach me when I graduate."
Harry nodded appreciatively.
"It's hard, but worth it."
"What does it do exactly?" Minerva asked.
She had heard of the branch of magic in passing but knew nothing of what it was, or the practice entailed, other than meditating, evidently.
"Primarily, it is used to shield your mind from people that practice legilimency," Harry answered. "That's the study of delving into someone's mind to look for information they may not be willing to share. When you get really good at it, you can even tell if people are lying to you."
"That sounds dangerous," Minerva said uncertainly.
"It is," Harry agreed. "A lot of people have ended up on a permanent medical ward due to malpractice."
Charlus shook his head disapprovingly.
"Idiots," he muttered.
"Do you study that?" Augusta pressed.
Harry shook his head firmly, though he hesitated.
"I have never studied legilimency in my life," he answered almost ominously, though it went unnoticed by the others.
Minerva, however, suspected he had at least looked into it.
"Can we hurry up and finish now," Poppy groaned impatiently.
"Are we in a rush?" Harry asked, confused by her sudden urgency.
"We are doing the gift exchange tonight," Charlus chuckled.
"Gift exchange?"
"Ah, I should have mentioned it. Well, on the last day of term before we leave for the holidays, we all get together to exchange and open our gifts," he explained. "It's been a yearly tradition since second year."
Harry nodded and smiled warmly.
"That sounds really nice," he replied, shooting Minerva an oddly nervous look.
"Then hurry up and eat," Poppy urged, "then we can get to it. Come on, Evans, fill your gob."
Harry laughed as he shook his head but continued with his meal.
When he was done, Poppy all but dragged him out of his seat, ignoring his protests.
"Bloody hell, you're going to rip my arm off!"
"Don't worry, I know how to re-attach it," Poppy assured him, "now move."
Harry stopped resisting and allowed himself to be led away from the hall, much to Minerva's amusement.
Poppy was not the most patient of people, and when the prospect of receiving presents was involved, she was even less so.
"Ah, Mr Evans," the voice of the headmaster halted the group as they ascended the stairs to the fourth floor. "I would much appreciate it if you would join me in my office this evening, say around nine pm?"
"He'll be there," Poppy replied on Harry's behalf, continuing to pull him along in her wake.
"I look forward to it, Miss Pomfrey," Dippet called, chuckling as he left the teens to it.
Much to Harry's relief, Poppy released her hold as they entered the common room and she all but sprinted up the stairs to retrieve the gifts she had purchased.
Minerva and Augusta followed at a more sedate pace, joining her in the dormitory a moment later.
"I love Christmas," Poppy declared.
"We know," Augusta huffed. "You say the same thing every year."
"I know, but I do love it."
Minerva could only shake her head in amusement as she took the presents she had neatly wrapped out of her trunk and checked that she had not forgotten any.
"Are you ready, Minnie?" Poppy asked impatiently.
"Yes, Poppy," Minerva sighed. "Come on, before you give yourself an aneurism or something."
Poppy frowned but was no less enthusiastic as she bounded down the stairs and into the common room where Harry, Charlus, and Tiberius were waiting, the latter evidently having been napping if his sleepy demeanour was anything to go by.
"Alright, now let's do this calmly," Charlus urged. "We don't want a repeat of last year," he added, looking pointedly at a now pouting Poppy. "We will take it in turns, starting with Augusta."
The girl nodded as she handed the first present to Tiberius who offered her a grateful smile.
"Wow, is that a Moonlily?" the boy asked excitedly.
"It is," Augusta confirmed. "Frank grew it, and I asked if he would mind if I gave it to you."
"That's amazing," Tiberius whispered, staring at the flower reverently.
"What's a moonlily?" Charlus asked.
"A plant that can only be planted, tended to, and picked on a full moon," Tiberius explained. "They are very difficult to grow. Frank must be excellent at Herbology to manage it."
"He is," Augusta said proudly. "Now, these are for you two," she continued, handing Charlus and Harry matching envelopes.
"An annual subscription to Transfiguration Today," Charlus announced appreciatively.
Harry nodded his agreement.
He had never read the magazine but was looking forward to it.
"Thank you," he said gratefully.
Augusta offered him a smile before handing Poppy and Minerva their gifts.
"Oh, this is beautiful," Minerva declared as she removed a tartan satchel. "This is why you asked for my family colours."
"It is," Augusta confirmed. "I thought you'd like it."
"I love it," Minerva replied, her eyes transfixed on the green, white, and red colours of her mother's family.
"Me too," Poppy broke in, looking inside the leather healer bag she had received. "Thank you."
She pulled the other girl into a tight hug, eliciting a laugh from her.
"Alright, Tiberius, would you like to go next?" Charlus asked.
The boy nodded and handed each of them a gift.
"It's something that my uncle is working on," he explained as the teens unwrapped a flask. "It will keep what you put in it at whatever temperature you want."
"That's really clever," Charlus observed. "Bloody hell, he'll make a fortune from these."
Tiberius nodded.
"You can't tell anyone yet, but he's working on selling a heated whiskey," he whispered. "These will be perfect for that."
Harry snorted lightly to himself.
Ogden's Winter Reserve was popular amongst the public where he came from.
Both Sirius and Hagrid enjoyed the brew.
"You're next, Charlus," Poppy urged.
The Potter heir handed a present each to the others minus Harry.
"We can exchange gifts on Christmas day," he reminded him.
Harry nodded, looking forward to having his first family Christmas.
Charlus had gotten each of the girls some perfume and Tiberius a dragonhide wand holster.
"The perfume will smell different to everyone depending on what their favourite scents are," he explained.
"Isn't that like Amortentia?" Poppy asked.
Charlus chuckled as he shook his head.
"No, it will not have any of those effects," he assured them. "It is subtle and won't make anyone think they're in love with you."
"That's good," Augusta sighed. "Frank already can't resist me."
The others laughed as Poppy removed a stack of gifts and began handing them out.
"You first, Minnie," she insisted.
Minerva eyed the girl warily as she opened her present, releasing a relieved breath when she removed a purse that matched the bag Augusta had given her.
"What? Were you expecting something embarrassing?"
"You mean like when you brought me the rather risqué underwear set in fourth year? My mother almost had a fit when she saw that."
"I didn't see it," Tiberius interjected with a frown.
"Me either," Charlus added.
"And you won't," Minerva said firmly. "I left it at home."
Poppy fought the grin that threatened to form and gestured for the rest to open their gifts.
Harry and Tiberius unwrapped a rather bulky assortment of treats from Honeydukes. Charlus had been given a similar package, his, however, by way of Zonko's, something that brought an almost sinister grin to his lips.
"McLaggen's in for a rough term," he said gleefully.
Minerva shook her heads and glared at the boy.
"You're supposed to be a prefect!"
"McLaggen is a git, and he deserves everything that is coming to him. You can't think it's not justified."
Minerva's nostrils flared, but she did not dispute what Charlus had said.
"See," Charlus chuckled. "What did you get, Augusta?" he questioned, quickly changing the subject before Minerva found a way to object.
"A very nice set of tools for runes," she explained, unrolling the set Poppy had given her.
"That is nice," Charlus complimented, inspecting a small chisel before placing it back. "Come on then, Minnie, you're up next."
The girl nodded and handed each of the others a box.
Poppy was the first to tear the lid off hers, beaming as she removed a set of healer's robes.
"I really need these!" she announced. "Mine are covered in who-knows-what."
"I know," Minerva replied. "I'm pretty sure you've explained every stain on them."
Poppy merely grinned.
"As my friend, you should experience the same disgusting things I have to in some way."
"I don't think healing works that way," Minerva grumbled.
"Thanks, Minnie," Tiberius said enthusiastically, holding up a set of potions spoons of various sizes.
"Who the bloody hell needs so many spoons?" Charlus grumbled, grinning as he unwrapped a dragonhide wallet. "Now this is useful," he added before Tiberius could begin explaining the use for each of the spoons he'd been given.
"What do you think, Harry?" Minerva asked, relieved to see that he was smiling.
"I love it," he whispered, cradling the small snowy owl that hooted gently at him.
Harry had told her about Hedwig, and though Minerva wasn't trying to replace his lost friend, when she had seen the little owl, she had immediately thought of him.
"An owl?" Charlus questioned curiously.
"I had a snowy one, and lost her recently," Harry explained sadly. "Where did you find her? Him?"
"It's a boy," Minerva confirmed. "He was just there, staring at me. It just felt right to get him for you."
Harry gave her a watery smile as he stroked the plumage of the small bird.
"He's perfect," he declared.
Minerva released a breath she had been holding. She didn't know how he would react, but she was pleased he wasn't angry with her.
"I suppose it's my turn," Harry continued, using his wand to levitate his chosen gifts to his housemates, still holding the owl to his chest.
"What is it?" Tiberius asked, holding up the leather cord with pendant Harry had given him.
"Oh, it's a basilisk fang that can be used for storage," Harry explained, resizing the tooth, and unscrewing the top. "You just have to tap it with your wand to shrink it."
"That's brilliant," Tiberius declared, experimenting with functions. "Where did you get it?"
"I know someone," Harry replied cryptically.
"That's really complicated charms work," Poppy said appreciatively, "thank you for this," she added, holding up the book on healer studies he had found for her.
"And mine," Augusta chimed in, holding up holding up a matching jacket and hat.
Minerva frowned as she unwrapped hers.
It was a model of the Comet Ten they had seen in Diagon Alley.
"Sorry," Harry interjected apologetically, tapping it with his wand.
It grew to be a full-sized broom, and Minerva could only gape at it dumbly whilst Charlus and Tiberius took in a sharp intake of breath.
"Is that real?" Ogden asked.
"Of course, it's real," Poppy huffed.
Minerva tentatively reached out a hand to touch the broom.
She had dreamed of owning this, her own a much older model that did not allow her to fly as well as she knew she could.
Harry knew it too.
He had spectated a few of the Quidditch practices where she had bemoaned the lack of speed and the way it pulled to the left occasionally.
"I can't accept this," she denied. "It's too much."
"No, it isn't," Harry countered, pushing it towards her. "You helped me a lot when I got here, so I want you to have it."
Minerva took the brook in her hand, running the free one down the length of the polished handle, her eyes transfixed on it.
She had never owned a new broom and hadn't expected she ever would.
It meant more to her than she could express with words. As such, she wrapped her free arm around his waist.
"Thank you," she offered sincerely.
Harry awkwardly returned her hug and rubbed her back.
"You're welcome," he replied with a smile. "Anyway, I need to go and see Dippet," he reminded her before giving her a final squeeze and taking his leave of the tower.
"He brought you a broom," Augusta chuckled. "How did he afford that?"
Minerva shrugged.
She knew that Harry had some gold to his name, but he must have spent a considerable amount of his wealth.
"I don't know," she sighed, watching where he had casually exited as though he hadn't just done the nicest thing anyone ever had for her. "I honestly don't know."
(Break)
"Not such a terrible term," Armando declared. "No more detentions or point deductions than previous years."
"Indeed," Albus agreed as he leaned back in the chair opposite the headmaster. "I would say it was almost a resounding success."
"Almost?"
"Abraxus Malfoy."
Armando sighed as he nodded.
"I had hoped that Black would keep his housemates in line."
"Abraxus is a Malfoy through and through, and it will take a rather harsh lesson for him to be taken back in hand," Albus said unhappily.
"Will Black do it?"
Albus shook his head.
"I do not believe so," he muttered. "Arcturus is a clever boy, and one that is now looking towards the future. To him, school squabbles are meaningless. His focus is on what is to come."
"A position he should not have had," Armando pointed out. "Are we any the wiser as to what happened to his older brother?"
"He disappeared around the same time Cassiopeia did some four years ago," Albus explained. "That is all I know."
"Well, there will be few that mourns her disappearance," Armando snorted. "An unpleasant woman if I ever did meet one."
Dumbledore nodded.
"No, I do not believe Arcturus would be so inclined to take Abraxus to task, not unless it threatened his own plans. He will wish to remain on as best terms as possible with the boy."
"Then we will soon have the houses embroiled in the same unpleasant as before," Armando huffed.
"Not necessarily," Albus mused aloud. "You are of course aware of the event that took place in Hogsmeade between young Harry, Mr Stebbins and Mr Bulstrode."
"It is abundantly clear to me that they were acting under the direction of Abraxus."
"As are my thoughts on the matter," Albus concurred. "However, I do not believe it to be the end of that particular grudge."
Armando scratched at his beard irritably.
"This will not end well."
"Harry can handle himself," Albus pointed out. "You heard what Rosalina had to say."
"I meant for Abraxus, Albus," Armando explained. "The boy will get himself hurt, and then it will end badly for Harry."
"That does present a rather, bleak problem. What shall we do?"
"Keep them away from each other as much as possible. With a little luck, this will all blow over."
Albus nodded his agreement.
"I do hope so."
"As do I," Armando grumbled. "Come in, Harry," he added after the knock had sounded at the door.
Albus watched as the boy entered, a far cry from the one he had been when he'd arrived all those months ago.
He had grown considerably, even broadening on the shoulders, and his skin was no longer deathly pale.
He looked healthy, and was growing into a strong young man, though when he looked at him, his resemblance to the Potters could not be ignored. Even if he did see a little of the Flamels there, and higher cheekbones than either of the families, he still undeniably took after the man that had sired him.
"You asked to see me, Professor?" Harry reminded Armando as he crossed the room and took the seat next to Albus.
"I merely wished to check in with you," the headmaster explained. "I apologise that I have not done so sooner, but things have gotten away from me this term."
Harry waved him off.
"I understand," he replied. "You have a lot to do."
"True," Armando conceded, "but you have my apologies, nonetheless. I also wanted to give you this."
He handed Harry a wrapped package and gestured for him to open it.
The boy did so, his eyebrows raising.
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "I hadn't thought about opening an account."
"Well, now you have one. The ten galleons is the minimum the goblins will accept for a vault opening. It is not much, but I do hope it is the beginning of a prosperous life for you."
Harry smiled warmly at the man as he handed his own gift to the headmaster, and then one to Dumbledore.
"A pair of woollen socks," the latter declared gleefully, holding the mustard yellow garments aloft. "Thank you."
Armando shot Albus a bemused look, as he opened his own.
The man seemed to be incredibly happy with the simple gift.
"Ah, now this is quite something," he offered, tapping his wand on the small cube he had been given.
When he did so, the ceiling above was illuminated by Sumerian runes with their translations next to them.
"You mentioned you were trying to learn them," Harry reminded him.
"Something I have had little time for," Armando replied. "This will be rather useful for my endeavour. Thank you, Harry."
The boy nodded as he stood.
"You're welcome. Enjoy your holidays."
"And you," Dippet returned. "You will be visiting with the Potters and the Flamels?"
"I will," Harry confirmed.
"Then enjoy it," Armando urged. "They may not know who you are yet, but do not allow that to take anything away from the experience."
"I won't," Harry assured him, "and thank you for everything. I don't know what I would have done without your help."
"Think nothing of it. I offered only what was rightfully yours. Enjoy your Christmas, Harry."
The boy offered them both a final smile that Albus returned before exiting the office.
"He is doing well," Armando commented.
"Very well," Albus added. "He will be a fine wizard with much to offer the world."
Armando could only nod his agreement, full of pride at the progress of the boy.
(Break)
It was a dreary morning at best. The rain that poured over Scotland was icy, and the students that made their way from the castle and towards Hogsmeade were sodden even before they had entered the carriages that would take them there.
Harry felt rather smug that he wasn't amongst them, his impervious charm keeping the water at bay.
Poppy had glared at him until he'd relented and cast one for her and the others also, though it was still a miserable walk.
"Minnie is lucky that her mother picks her up from Hogwarts," Augusta muttered.
"It doesn't make sense for her to go all the way to London, only to have to come all the way back up here," Poppy pointed out.
"I suppose not," Augusta conceded as she closed the door to the carriage, the thudding of the heavy rainfall making conversation all but impossible as they trundled their way towards the village.
Even seeing the scarlet engine waiting for the did little to life their spirits.
A miserable day indeed.
"Thank Merlin for that," Augusta sighed as she closed the compartment door behind her and took a seat, the teens having boarded the train quickly.
"Balls to that rain," Tiberius grumbled. "I hope it's better in London."
"Can't be worse than it is here," Harry snorted, removing his little owl from the confines of his coat, and placing it on his shoulder.
He had yet to name the creature, but he was certain one would come to him.
"How's he doing?" Charlus asked.
"Wary," Harry answered. "I don't know if it is a breed thing, but Hedwig was the same."
"Was she as small as him?"
Harry shook his head.
"No, she was fully grown," he explained. "This one still can't fly properly yet."
"He'll get there," the boy replied encouragingly. "By the end of the holidays, you won't be able to stop him."
"No, but as long as he's happy."
"He already adores you," Poppy broke in. "His eyes never leave you."
Harry grinned at the bird, whose alert amber orbs were firmly on him. It wasn't long after the group had settled that the train left the station, with the heavy rain still pounding on the windows.
"What are your plans for the holidays then?" Tiberius asked.
"My parents are taking me to visit some uncles in the west country," Augusta announced, "and then I will be going to see Frank."
"Where is he anyway?" Charlus asked.
"He stayed behind to tend to his plants in the greenhouse so they will survive over Christmas," Augusta explained. "His father will collect him later."
Charlus nodded.
"What about you, Tiberius? Anything planned?"
The boy shrugged.
"I won't know until I get home. I'm hoping I'll see my Uncle Bob. He always has interesting stories to tell about his adventures in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Poppy?" Charlus prompted.
"We are just having my grandparents stay with us. My grandfather will attempt to cook, and then my mother will end up doing it before he burns the house down."
"Has that happened?"
Poppy shook her head.
"It's been a close call a few times," she sighed. "I don't know where he got the impression he can cook. He's as about as useful in the kitchen as Tiberius would be on a medical ward."
Tiberius chuckled as he nodded.
"That bad?"
"Terrible, but enough of that, what are you two going to do?" Poppy asked, pointing to Harry and Charlus in turn.
"My family doesn't do much," Charlus shrugged. "We exchange presents, have lunch, and then go to the carol service. It's been a Potter tradition since long before I was born. It's not much, but it's our Christmas."
"We all have our traditions," Tiberius said appreciatively.
For much of the journey, they shared their experiences of the holidays, and Harry took the opportunity get to know his new companion better.
The little owl remained with him throughout the ride to London, seemingly listening to the conversation happening around him, the same way that Hedwig once had.
Harry missed her just as much as he missed his old friends but having the people around him that he did now, helped keep the pang of loss at bay.
"We'll be arriving soon," Charlus announced as the scenery passing by became less rural, and the black smoke that eternally hung over the capitol could be seen marring the air.
Harry was fascinated by the sights; his latest excursion having been in Diagon Alley that hadn't changed much. The muggle side of the city, however, was not how he remembered it.
The streets were recognisable, but the buses, the cars, and buildings were so very different, like something he had seen in some of the old films Petunia had watched when he had been too bruised to go to school.
Seeing it in person was as surreal as the thought of meeting his family, something that would be taking place imminently.
He felt the nervousness set in and followed the others as they stepped off the train.
"There they are," Charlus exclaimed excitedly, pointing to a man and woman a short distance away.
William Potter was a strongly built man, broad-shouldered, brown-eyed, and with the trademark dishevelled hair of his family. His gaze had been stern, but as it settled on his son, it softened, and he pulled the boy into a tight embrace.
"We've missed you," he muttered, ruffling Charlus's hair.
The woman standing with him nodded, her brighter brown eyes full of warmth as she wrapped her arms around her son.
Harry felt a slight pang of jealousy as he observed the heart-warming moment between them but masked it as best he could when Charlus turned to him.
"Mum, Dad, this is Harry Evans," he introduced fondly. "Harry, these are my parents, William and Angelica Potter."
William took him by the hand and gave it a firm shake.
"It is great to meet you, Harry," he said sincerely. "Charlus has told us much about you in his letters. I hear you've quite the talent for transfiguration."
"He does," Charlus broke in before Harry could answer.
"Then you will fit in nicely with us," Charlus declared with a chuckle, turning to his wife who was eying Harry curiously. "What is it?"
The woman shook her head and offered the teen a smile.
"It's nice to meet you."
Harry returned the gesture, unnerved by how she had been watching him, but any suspicion she may have felt all but vanished in but a second.
She wasn't at all how he would have envisioned his great grandmother to be. Perhaps his perception had been somewhat skewed by having had a redheaded, green-eyed mother and Dorea Black as a grandmother.
Angelica Potter was blonde, her wavy hair spilling over her shoulders, and sharp features quite delicate. She was a lithe woman with pouty lips.
Not what he would have imagined at all.
"And you," Harry replied.
"Now, would there be a reason that the Malfoy boy is trying to immolate you with his eyes?" William asked.
Harry turned to see Abraxus, and a man that could only be his father glaring at him, both wearing a matching, smug grin.
"The prat has it in for Harry because he wouldn't bow down to the Malfoy greatness," Charlus snorted.
"Is that so?" William asked, his eyes narrowing. "I could always have a word with Lord Malfoy if you wish. I can assure you, his offspring will leave you alone."
Harry shook his head.
"If you did that, then I would be no better than him," he pointed out. "He's a coward that needs others to fight his battles for him."
William nodded as he chuckled.
"I see you got the measure of him rather quickly," he said appreciatively. "Well, in that case, then let us just leave. The sight of his stupid grin is already irritating me, and I might just have to wipe it off for my own benefit."
Charlus smirked whilst Angelica shook her head and took her husband by the arm.
"What impression would that give Harry of our family?" she asked. "He will think we are thugs."
"No, he wouldn't," Charlus disagreed. "I think he'd enjoy it."
"Do not encourage your father!" Angelica chided, though the corner of her mouth tugged in an amused grin. "Come along, let them continue thinking they are somehow superior. They will learn one day."
With that, she led them to the end of the platform, away from the Malfoys.
"We will apparate home," she explained. "Have you ever apparated before, Harry?"
He shook his head.
"Then it may be a little uncomfortable," she said matter-of-factly as she took him gently by the shoulder.
Harry felt the air squeezed from his lungs as he was forced through an impossibly small space, and soon found himself gulping in lungful after lungful of air when his feet were back on solid ground.
"I apologise, Harry," the voice of Angelica broke into his thoughts.
"It's fine," he assured her, taken aback by how familiar the sensation was, though he knew he had never travelled via apparation before.
A part of him felt that he could even do it, given the chance.
"Well, this is it," Charlus announced, nodding towards a large house beyond the thick iron gates they stood before.
Harry had never considered the Potters would have a home such as this, but it made sense. The wealth he had inherited from the family was not a negligible sum.
He wondered if it had still existed during his own time.
"It's nice," he replied noticing that Charlus was waiting for his approval. "Nothing like where I grew up."
It wasn't.
According to Sirius, the cottage he had spent the first year of his life was modest and spoke little of the wealth of the Potters.
Privet Drive certainly wasn't anything like this either. Not even close.
"At least it isn't raining here either," Charlus spoke once more as they headed towards the home.
"Was it bad in Scotland?" Angelica asked.
"We would have been drenched if it wasn't for Harry and his charms work," Charlus chuckled. "He's quite handy to have around."
"Even if he does start grudges with the Malfoys?" Angelica questioned, offering Harry a wink.
"That just makes me like him more," William interjected. "Smarmy gits. Anyway, let's not let them ruin our holidays. If necessary, I'll deal with the sods after Christmas."
"William," Angelica sighed.
"What? It's not like I really need an excuse," William returned. "The problem with them is that they think they can bully whoever they want and get away with it."
Charlus nodded his agreement.
"Don't worry about the Malfoys, Harry," William urged. "If they try to cause you problems, ask Abraxus about his uncle Adonis. That will get a reaction you can use to your advantage."
"William," Angelica said warningly.
"What's wrong with his uncle?" Charlus pressed.
William smirked.
"All I will say is that he doesn't quite fit in with the family way, and that he refused to take a wife."
Angelica huffed irritably.
"Can we not discuss this?" she requested. "It is Charlus's and Harry's Christmas holidays. I'd rather not waste it on schoolboy grudges. This should be a time for them to enjoy a break from the castle."
"You're right," William agreed as he unlocked the front door with a tap of his wand and led them inside. "Welcome to our home, Harry. You won't have to worry about the Malfoys here."
Harry nodded appreciatively.
The house was beautiful with a large entrance hall decorated in black and white marble, the furniture crafted from oak and leather, and a matching grand staircase ahead that led to the second floor, the gold bannisters snaking the length of them either side.
"Charlus will show you to your room where you can unpack," William explained.
"Come on, Harry," the Potter heir urged. "I think you'll like it here."
"I think I will too," Harry replied, the reality that he was in the home of his family finally setting in.
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