Reading Time: 115 Minutes

Title: The Beginning of the End
Series: If Only
Series Order: 1
Author: Aussiefan70
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence-Against Children
Author Note:
Beta: Geminiangel
Word Count: 111,718
Summary: In which Harry learns he’s a wizard, wizards really know nothing about goblins, it’s okay to grow a new family if your relatives are terrible, having friends (and Snowy Owls) is amazing, and Headmasters aren’t always to be trusted. Also that Hogwarts, flying and learning magic are wonderful, but dark lords? Not so much.
Artist: Spuddoc

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If Only – The Beginning of the End

“Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.”

Winston Churchill, 1940

Minerva McGonagall’s thoughts on James, Lily, and Harry Potter as she surveyed the Dursleys, 1 November 1981.

 

Chapter 1

Somewhere on a cold, forbidding, storm-wracked island off the coast of England, a small boy (undersized and underfed), with messy black hair, and sellotaped glasses hiding brilliant green eyes, pondered the insanity that was his life. He was huddled on a chilled stone floor in the spare hut his uncle had dragged them all to, relegated to the meanest choices available: an icy cold, unpadded floor, a threadbare blanket, worn-thin oversized clothing that offered little protection, a stomach that was all too familiar with hunger, and a throat that frequently knew thirst.

Most children in this position would be thinking “If only…”, but this young lad was mostly focused on what craziness would come next. After all, he’d had ten years of living with this family. It wasn’t a question of if something cruel, harsh, or demanding would be next, but when it would happen.

So, when a pounding sound on the door merged with a clap of thunder outside, as the door fell in and let the driving rain and sea spray chill the barren room further, and the boy rolled over to see a giant silhouette of a man in the doorway, he wasn’t nearly as surprised as most eleven-year-olds should be. In fact, he merely commented to himself in passing, “Hmm, so this is what’s next then.”

When he heard the enormous man (Hagrid it seemed was his name, which was…..different) announce, “Yeh’re a wizard Harry”, the boy’s world tilted on its axis. He was used to being the odd one out in his so-called family and at his school, but never in his wildest imagination would he have dreamed this would be the reason, and the next step his life would take. Nor the fact that the news of his invitation to an oddly named school for witches and wizards came along with the newcomer’s arrival. Having his cousin receive a curly pig’s tail was just the icing on the cake! Not that Dudley had left much icing on the cake Hagrid had brought for Harry, or much of the boy’s birthday cake at all, for that matter.

Before he almost knew it, he and Hagrid were back on solid (and thankfully dry ground) and feeling much warmer and drier after his rescuer waved the little pink umbrella at him. When Hagrid waggled his umbrella one more time, sending the rowboat back to the island so the Dursleys could also leave, Harry pondered the whole umbrella thing. He rather hoped pink umbrellas weren’t a normal means of producing magic; after all, his favourite colour was a deep cobalt blue. And the less said about the whole umbrella thing, the better.

Commenting that he hoped for a different umbrella colour to use at school, Hagrid looked at Harry a little sheepishly and replied, “‘Bout tha’ Harry, wizards an’ witches use wands, no’ umbrellas. I’m no’ supposed ter be seen doin’ magic. Keep tha’ one under yer hat fer me, would yeh?”

Harry considered the request for a second. He didn’t see any real downside to acquiescing to such a simple request, and nodded his agreement, which saw his companion heave a vast sigh of relief.

“Ta fer tha’. Wouldn’ wan’ the ministry ter come calling.” A broad smile lit Hagrid’s face, as much as could be determined behind such a bushy beard, but he was obviously both insanely cheerful and eager to fulfil the duty he’d been tasked with.

Before Harry knew it, he was plopped in the side-car of a motorcycle, given his Hogwarts letter to review (yes, wands were indeed on the list), roughly tucked in with a blanket of furry and dubious origin, and the pair were heading off to a weird sounding place called Diagon Alley to fetch his school supplies. Harry wondered, in that moment as they set off, if the rowboat actually made it back to the island to collect his relatives.

Instantly, his next thought was that he was not looking forward to his next reunion with his aunt, uncle, and cousin, and there was still a month until he’d be able to leave for Hogwarts. Harry found himself having to swallow hard several times, to hold in the urge to vomit out of fear of what might happen, with the whole stealing the rowboat, disrespecting Uncle Vernon, let alone the Dudley and the pig’s tail portion of the encounter. Meanwhile, Hagrid rode merrily along, entirely unaware of some of the more dire potential consequences of his high-handed actions.

The ride took several hours, and dawn had barely broken over the horizon as they flew in over London. Landing in a small, obscure alley off Charing Cross Road, Hagrid simply parked the motorcycle and walked towards the slowly-awakening main street.

Harry called out, “Aren’t you worried about it getting stolen, Hagrid?”

“Nah, ‘s got enough Muggle-repelling charms an’ Notice-me-not charms ter hide a herd o’ hippogriffs. She’ll still be there nice an’ safe when we come back fer her.”

The Hogwarts Groundskeeper continued to stride away, and Harry had to run to catch up, whispering those strange terms under his breath. More than anything, he wanted to know what a hippogriff was.

Within a minute, the pair found their way onto Charing Cross Road, and walked perhaps twenty metres or so to a dingy-looking building of indeterminate age, bearing the title The Leaky Cauldron on its grimy, opaque window. Entering the structure a little cautiously behind Hagrid, not sure of the safety of the building or what he’d find inside, Harry found himself in what appeared to be an old pub, which was surprisingly full, given it was only the breakfast hour.

In response to an arm raised in greeting from a grey-faced, nearly toothless bartender, Hagrid announced importantly, “Mornin’ Tom. I’m here on important business fer Headmaster Dumbledore. I got young Harry here, taking him in ter the alley an’ gettin’ his school supplies. Starting at Hogwarts this year he is.”

As heads popped up across the room, either from their morning meals or the remains of last night’s bender, Hagrid leaned over and stage-whispered, “Great man Dumbledore.”

Before he could blink, Harry was inundated with adults of all ages and manner of dress, most of who seemed to be wearing…dresses? He found complete strangers wanting to shake his hand, thanking him, offering crushing hugs, asking to see his scar, all while exclaiming he looked “Just like James!” and “But those are Lily’s eyes!”

Hagrid, who’d left him to fend for himself with the mob to chat with a small man wearing a strange turban, finally rescued him, shouting about how much they had to do that day, and half-heartedly pointing out the turban wearer as one of the Hogwarts professors, without actually taking the time to introduce them. As Harry was being half dragged and half led, they were soon through the tavern and facing a brick wall. While Harry looked back at the pub with a degree of longing (breakfast hadn’t magically appeared during the long motorbike trip), Hagrid tapped a pattern onto certain bricks with his umbrella, explaining it was the main entrance to the Wizarding district from the Muggle world. Suddenly the bricks rearranged themselves and moved aside, and Harry’s world tilted sideways once more.

The street beyond was just coming alive as businesses were opening and shopkeepers were setting out their wares. Magical brooms swept front stoops without any human assistance, and rags dipped themselves into buckets of soapy water to scrub café tables clean. Street vendors were wheeling their carts into place, the oversized barrows following docilely along like well-trained dogs. Harry found he could only stare and gape as he turned slowly in a circle, spotting something new with each turn. What strange world was this?

Hagrid, little comprehending how new this was to his young charge, tugged at his arm to move the boy forward.

“Come on Harry. Loads ter do today. We gotta start at Gringotts…tha”s the Wizarding bank (run by goblins yer know), an’ get yeh out some Galleons. Then we can get your supplies an’ school robes. Like I said, loads ter do.”

And the tall man set off up the road, pointing out a white marble building, the tallest on the street by a long shot, a few blocks ahead as their destination. Slightly out of breath in his attempts to keep up, the boy began to mentally store all his questions for later, because robes and Galleons and goblins needed a little explanation in his mind.

Harry’s mind continued to reel at the stores as he passed them. There was a shop dedicated to cauldrons alone, and an apothecary with ingredients on view that were too weird for him to contemplate. They passed a place to buy owls, though Harry wasn’t sure why you would until Hagrid mentioned they were used as a postal service. There was an ice cream café, a joke shop, and even a store that sold brooms! Apparently, in this new world of his, brooms could fly! Though Harry was disappointed when he recalled his letter had stated that first-years were barred from bringing brooms to school.

At last, they arrived at Gringotts, an imposing snow white marble edifice. The intimidation factor multiplied with the sign threatening dire consequences for would-be thieves and was intensified by the air of fierceness pouring off the pair of highly armoured guards flanking each side of the door. Determined to make a good impression, Harry nodded respectfully to both as he passed, and was delighted when it was returned. His fear subsiding, he was starting to think that it would be kind of brilliant to get to know a goblin, maybe become friends.

Hagrid scooted Harry forward toward one of the lines for the tellers. Being early morning, the lines were short, and before Harry could greet the goblin or ask his name, Hagrid had announced he was there to get some school supply money out of Harry’s vault, while Harry blinked at the knowledge he had an entire vault, all to himself, and gifted to him by his parents no less.

Hagrid, having produced the key to Harry’s vault, lowered his voice and stated he was also there at Dumbledore’s request, to access vault 713 and retrieve a valuable item. He produced a parchment authorising his access to the vault, having had to empty his voluminous pockets to locate the missive.

While Hagrid was muddling about over Dumbledore’s errand, Harry was paying close attention to everything around him. He’d found being aware of his environment had saved him from Dudley and his gang of bullies many times over. So, when they gave his name to the teller, only the most observant would notice that the next teller suddenly put up a ‘gone to lunch’ sign, then scurried to a door behind the row of tellers, halfway down the vast hall.

A seemingly older goblin, with an air of authority that suggested a manager or supervisor, emerged only moments later. He approached the teller tending to Hagrid while the giant man searched his pockets and whispered in the teller’s ear for nearly a minute. The teller straightened, signalling he’d received an order he was willing to carry out, as the managing goblin stepped back and waited against the wall behind the tall desks.

Having presented the letter from Dumbledore, the teller (what was his name, Harry fretted) agreed all was in order and called for someone named Griphook.

“Mr Hagrid, this is Griphook. He’s authorised to take you into the high-security vaults to retrieve your item. However, Gringotts’ policy is to not allow underage wizardkind into the high-security vaults section. But do not be concerned. My manager, Firelock, is willing to take Mr Potter to his vault, and the young wizard will remain supervised at all times.”

Hagrid began to protest but was talked over by the teller in a firm voice. “Surely this makes sense, as you would both be able to retrieve what you need at the same time, allowing you more time in the Alley for shopping. Perhaps give the boy a meal? He does look a touch scrawny.”

Harry bristled a little at the description, but realising the sense of the plan, offered up his agreement to go with Firelock and meet back in the lobby once they were both done.

Hagrid continued to grumble but acquiesced eventually and was led away by Griphook, who nodded in commiseration to the Groundskeeper’s complaints that riding the carts always made him ill.

Watching to see that Hagrid had truly left, Harry turned to Firelock and the teller and commented, “If I’m not mistaken, that was a ruse to separate us. Do you wish to speak to me privately, Firelock? And forgive me, sir, I didn’t catch your name and it feels rude of me not to,” he finished turning and offering a short bow of respect to the teller.

“Many thanks for the consideration, Mr Potter. Very few wizards care to know who is handling their daily financial needs. My name is Blacktor. Please ask for me if you have need of teller services in the future. It’s a pleasure to deal with such a polite young wizard.”

Harry grinned and, offering his hand to shake, said, “It’s nice to meet you Blacktor. Should we go somewhere more private? And I really do need to go to my vault. I have no money at all, either magical or Muggle. I’m going to need some help figuring all this out.”

Firelock indicated for Harry to follow to the doorway he’d come through a short while ago, while Blacktor returned to his high stool and desk. Ushering Harry into an office, Firelock began to explain.

“Mr Potter, we at Gringotts have been very concerned on your behalf. We have sent many owls to you, with requests for meetings, but we’ve never had a reply. There are many inconsistencies with the execution of your parents’ wills, we do not even know who your guardian is, and we were oath-bound at the beginning of the Grindelwald war, by your great-grandfather, to watch over the Potter line. You are an important customer to us, and we have been frustrated by our inability to execute our duties.”

Harry was rather gobsmacked by this information. “Does this mean my family was rich?” he asked.

“One of our wealthiest customers, young wizard, and you are the last of the Potter line. So, we have much to discuss and little time to do it today. If I were to arrange for a means of travel for you to return to the bank tomorrow, or after your shopping is completed this afternoon, would that be acceptable?”

Harry nodded then replied, “I’m not all that sure I have any place to stay tonight. Even if Hagrid drops me home, my relatives are unlikely to be there. Last I saw them, they were on an island off the coast of Newcastle. They were going to have to row back in, then drive down to Surrey. And well, they’ll also have to take my cousin to Emergency, to get that pig’s tail that Hagrid gave him looked at. I’ll be surprised if they make it back to Privet Drive before late tomorrow. Oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you about the tail. You wouldn’t get Hagrid in trouble, would you?”

Firelock answered with a chuckle, “No, your secret’s safe. I will issue you a multi-use Portkey. It kind of acts like a transporter from Star Trek I am told by my wife’s nephew, who is a great fan if that helps explain it. It’s an odd feeling, sort of like a hook grabs you around the middle and takes off at high speed, but it’s perfectly safe and has been used for more than two hundred years. If you return home and no one is there, simply return here and we will make arrangements for you for the night. Is this acceptable?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically at the plan and happily accepted a Muggle-style digital watch, the buttons of which could be set for various destinations. He strapped on the watch (which surprisingly was also keeping the correct time) and followed Firelock out of the office, headed towards the carts to the vaults. A young goblin driver kept everything steady as the two climbed aboard, then let the brake loose, allowing the cart to gather speed in its descent and twisty turns.

Harry whooped with delight, thinking this to be the world’s best roller coaster ride (not that he’d ever been on one, but he’d heard Dudley rave about his many experiences), and wondering how often he could go to his vault, just so he could keep riding the carts. At his side, Firelock smiled minutely (it would be unprofessional to do more just yet) at Harry’s delight. By appearance and clothing, it was obvious the young boy had been neglected, and his overly-cautious manner spoke all too loudly of a boy that was not permitted a voice at home. Never mind, detailed plans were being made. The neglect, if not outright abuse, would not be permitted to continue to a child of an oath-bound family. Not if Gringotts had anything to do with it.

Pulling up to the Potter Trust Vault, Harry shrewdly asked, “So is Hagrid taking the long way round to his vault, to give us time to talk?”

Firelock loosed a grin, he couldn’t help it. “Very astute Mr Potter.” He then proceeded to explain Wizarding money, offering a money pouch that could hold a ridiculous amount, yet still weighed less than a can of spaghetti. He assisted Harry in gathering enough coins of all denominations, while also sharing that Gringotts could convert his Galleons to Muggle money, to ensure he could shop for new clothes for more casual times at school or over the holidays. He also subtly hinted that Harry was welcome to use it to buy food, suspecting it was often withheld from the young man. A gasp and a muttered “Thanks” told him he’d hit the mark. Firelock sighed, it appeared there was much to be done on Harry’s behalf.

The pair returned to the carts and arrived in short order back in the bank’s lobby. After exchanging some of Harry’s Galleons for Pounds and issuing him with a stamp that acted as a magical debit card, Firelock took a seat on a bench near the carts and invited Harry to join him, reiterating that he’d promised to supervise Harry until Hagrid returned. That comment, accompanied by a wink and a sardonic grin, had Harry chuckling right up until a rather green-coloured Hagrid emerged from his own cart a few minutes later.

“Hate them carts. Upsets me stomach every time,” Hagrid pronounced once again, as they left the Bank. He steered Harry towards a clothes shop by the name of Madam Malkins. “Yeh need ter get yer robes here Harry. Three sets jus’ like yer letter said. I’m goin’ ter the Leaky Cauldron fer a drink, try ter settle me stomach. I’ll meet yeh in Flourish an’ Blotts, the bookstore when yer done with the robe fitting. Okay, Harry?”

Before Harry could answer, Hagrid had turned in the direction of the pub at a determined pace. Harry wondered if he’d be missing lunch, to go with that missing breakfast, given it was now mid-morning. ‘Oh well’, he sighed inwardly, ‘It won’t be the first time I’ve missed two meals. At least I got a bit of my birthday cake during the night. Still…’. Pulling his thoughts back to the practical necessities, Harry turned and entered the shop.

He found himself greeted from the back of the store, “First year at Hogwarts dear? Come on back and we’ll get you fitted. There’s only one student ahead of you and we’re nearly done.”

Harry scuttled towards the voice, finding a congenial-looking witch, rather on the plump side, offering him a welcoming smile. “I’m just finishing pinning up Mr Malfoy, should be done in a few. He’s a first-year, like you. What did you say your name was, dear?”

“I’m Harry Potter, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.” Turning to the blonde boy beside him, who was just stepping down from a round, squat platform used during fittings, Harry prepared to greet him as well.

But a voice cut across the room from the front door, “Draco darling, are you done? We still need to get to the apothecary and pick up your quills and parchment supplies, and we’re meeting your father at eleven thirty for an early lunch. He has to be back at the Ministry by one this afternoon. There’s a big trial going on in front of the whole Wizengamot. Something to do with flying carpets and black market sales I think. So, let’s be getting along.”

“Yes Mother,” Malfoy responded, “I’ll be right there.” Finishing removing his robes, he proffered a hand to Harry, and said softly, “I’ll see you on the train, I guess. Enjoy your fitting!” Malfoy finished off with a sarcastic eye roll, as Harry shook his hand. They each turned away to the next task at hand; both boys still had much to do.

The actual robe fitting took next to no time; most of the next half hour was spent discussing fabrics and clothing needs to handle four seasons in Scotland. Madam Malkin sensibly suggested three lightweight robes, along with a second set of three winter-weight robes also.

Realising that Harry had no other clothing beyond his cousin’s hand-me-downs, she recommended getting several pairs of trousers of different weights to be worn under his robes, along with plain buttoned short and long-sleeve shirts. The tailor also suggested a heavy winter cloak and boots, along with some lace-up shoes for the days he would stay inside the Castle. She finished off the whirlwind visit by reiterating Firelock’s advice to pick up a range of Muggle clothes for outside of classroom hours and weekends and reminded him that while Hogwarts supplied toiletries, they were pretty basic, and he’d be better off setting up his own shower kit to take with him.

Harry thanked her for all her help, pressing the small self-inking stamp with his family crest that he’d been given by Firelock onto the invoice, thus saving his Galleons for later. He thought it rather ingenious of Gringotts as he stored the stamp back into his money pouch, which was spelled to only open for him.

Leaving Madam Malkins, with the promise to return in two hours to pick up his robes, Harry turned to look for Flourish and Blotts. Thinking quickly, on finding no sign of Hagrid yet, he asked if there were any special books aimed at newcomers to the Wizarding world. The startled clerk asked if he’d not received the Muggleborn/Muggle-raised book list, and when told no, handed over a copy with alacrity, helping Harry to find the books on both his lists in record time. They were shrunken down into a small parcel with instructions to touch a rune mark with Harry’s wand to unshrink them later, and safely deposited in Harry’s pocket when Hagrid returned.

Harry stopped his browsing, coming back to the register area with a couple of young adult novels and a book on the history of magic around the world that had caught his interest. When Hagrid went to argue about the extra books, stating Dumbledore had said Harry only needed what was on the list, Harry played the ‘But it’s my birthday, and this is my present to myself’ card, successfully guilt-tripping Hagrid into playing along.

From there it was a high-speed dash around Diagon Alley, picking up a cauldron and scales, potions ingredients, parchment and quills, and a telescope, as per the list in the letter. Hagrid had to be overwhelmed with logic to force him into the trunk shop, because it wasn’t on the list, but finally listened when Harry explained he’d be showing up to the Hogwarts Express with his belongings in Tesco bags if he didn’t get a trunk. He found a nice three-compartment trunk that divided his clothing from his books, with the third compartment holding all his school supplies.

While Hagrid was distracted in a chat with a former student, Harry also grabbed a messenger bag for daily use in school, with expansion and feather-light charms, along with a backpack with the same features, that might come in handy around the Dursleys, as it was so ‘normal’ looking. Harry also pulled out and re-sized his books and supplies, and put them into the correct compartments, before having the clerk teach him how to shrink the trunk. Touching his wand to a rune under the lock would allow Harry to expand and contract it, without setting off any alarms for under-age magic. Harry was grateful for the information, having heard nothing of the Ministry restrictions from Hagrid.

By this point, it was two thirty in the afternoon, and Harry had had nothing to eat or drink all day. When Hagrid went to drag him off for one last stop, to get his wand, Harry put his foot down, insisting on taking a break for a proper meal. The pair returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where Tom behind the bar finally realised just how uncomfortable Harry was with all the attention and adulation.

Tom pulled them back into a private room and left the duo with menus, taking an order for beer from Hagrid and lemonade from Harry. The boy had determinedly turned down the offer of pumpkin juice, wrinkling his nose at the concept, despite being assured it was the most popular kid’s drink in the Wizarding world.

Harry devoured the rich vegetable soup he selected and made short work of the roast beef sandwich stuffed with thick slices of meat, sharp cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, and a wonderfully spicy mustard on slabs of crusty, freshly baked bread. It was simply the best meal he’d ever eaten, even if he did think he’d somewhat overdone it by the end.

But the perennially starved young boy found it anathema to let any of this good food go to waste. The half a leftover sandwich was wrapped in a serviette for later, along with a couple of cheese scones that had accompanied the soup. Even if the Dursleys were home that evening, Harry was certain there’d be no dinner for him, nor likely any breakfast tomorrow. With leftovers safely stored in his backpack, which was also shrunk down in his pocket, Harry was secure that he wouldn’t be hungry tonight, as he’d been the night before.

The last stop on the list was a store called Ollivanders; it was here that Harry would find his wand. He crossed the doorstep with a sense of reverence, a knowledge that having a wand would truly confirm he was a wizard. Garrick Ollivander greeted him by name, which was a bit odd until he recalled most everyone could, thanks to the scar on his forehead.

What followed was a most ridiculous experience, as a charmed measuring tape took all sorts of bizarre dimensions including the distance between his nostrils. Still somewhat befuddled, Harry responded automatically with his right hand when asked to reach with his wand hand, as Ollivander proffered wand after wand, with extremely erratic (and occasionally dangerous) results.

Neither of them was satisfied with the results so far when Hagrid interrupted, “Say, Harry, will yeh be alright here fer a bit? I forgot one small errand. Won’ take me but twenty minutes or so, an’ I’ll meet yeh back here, I promise.”

Thinking Hagrid was probably justifiably bored by this point, Harry waved him off with a smile, as the wand selection process continued.

Twenty unsuccessful wands tested, Ollivander tapped his finger on the counter as he considered something, then raced to the far back shelves and retrieved a box with a hefty layer of dust.

“Give it a try lad,” he said as he offered the wand handle first. Harry took it and it gave off a sort of prickly warmth that wasn’t entirely comfortable, though was certainly the strongest response so far. He gave it a swish as instructed by the wand maker, and a strong wind swept the room, clearing the wand boxes of decades of accumulated dust.

After they both stopped coughing, Ollivander thanked Harry for the impromptu cleaning, then began to speak.

“That’s holly wood in this wand, with a phoenix feather core. Strangely enough, that phoenix only ever gave one other feather. It was in the wand that left that mark on your forehead that day but disappeared along with the Dark Lord. I considered them brother wands. Curious how it’s now found its way into your hand.”

On hearing the news, Harry threw the wand down onto the counter, horrified to even be tangentially linked to either the wand or the man who’d killed his parents, left him orphaned, and under the dubious care of the Dursleys.

“No way is that my wand! I won’t touch it again! If it’s that wand and Hogwarts as a package deal, I guess I’ll be going to Stonewall High School in Little Whinging after all. I want nothing to do with any wand that is linked to the man who killed my Mum and Dad. No way!!!”

Harry backed away from the counter, hands raised in protection from the evil he perceived in the wand. One look askance, one wrong word from the wand maker and he’d be out the door, hoofing it down to Gringotts to ask for sanctuary.

Garrick Ollivander sighed. “If you’re certain Mr Potter, and it seems you are, we’ll have another try. Hmm, let me think… ah, I’d forgotten about that one.” Sweeping the holly wand into its box, he went even further back into his stores and dug around for a good five minutes before returning with a much older wand box. It was an attractive piece with inlaid wood of contrasting colours and intricate design and was a work of art unto itself.

“My father made this wand, Mr Potter. It was the wand that proved he’d achieved his Mastery and never seemed to find a home anywhere during his long life. He always said it was a very picky wand and was waiting for a very special wizard or witch. One who’d known struggle and loss, but was strong enough to come out the other side with his soul unmarred. We always wondered if my father had a touch of the seer to him; perhaps he did after all. Its core is a dragon fang my father found in his travels to Norway, and the wood is tigerwood, which he traded for with a young fellow from Brazil when they met in Scandinavia. Together the wood and the core represent loyalty and friendship, along with power tempered by wisdom. It’s a unique combination he never repeated. Would you do me the honour of trying it?”

Harry moved gingerly forward, then reached out his hand to the wand lying innocently on the counter. With trepidation, he picked the wand up and was immediately suffused with a sense of peace and welcome. Ollivander could see the difference in the space of a heartbeat, and gently said, “Give it a swish lad. Let’s see how you get on together.”

As instructed, Harry swept the wand in an arcing motion in front of him and cried out in delight when it sprung to meet his request with alacrity. The room was filled with falling petals of pure light in all colours of the rainbow. It was heartbreakingly beautiful, and the two wizards stood there for a long moment as the light petals continued to fall. As the last petals drifted to the floor, to then disappear into the ether, Harry and Garrick looked each other in the eye.

“That wand was meant for you lad. My father always said we were never to take a single Knut for it; that it would be his gift to the eventual owner.”

Harry offered inarticulate thanks, still wowed by the feel of the wand and the beauty of the light show.

Garrick rummaged under the counter as Harry slowly collected himself, then laid a variety of leather goods on the countertop. “These are wand holsters lad. They have different styles and uses, but the most popular ones like these straps to your forearm. All of mine have anti-summoning charms, so you can’t be easily disarmed, and for those who frequently spend time in the Muggle world, I can add a disillusionment charm, so you can keep your wand with you no matter where you are. It’s my feeling that you’d feel a lot safer with that option, am I right?”

Finally turning his brain all the way back on, Harry replied, “I think the Muggle feature sounds perfect, and a forearm holster would be the best option.”

Ollivander then fitted the holster to Harry’s arm and explained how to trigger the wand to drop into his hand and other custom features. When Harry asked how much the holster would be, Ollivander refused payment.

“It’s my gift, to go along with that of my Father’s. And perhaps a small apology for reminding you of your loss, or playing any part in supplying the wand which caused it.”

Harry laid his hand on the old wizard’s arm and spoke earnestly, “It’s not your fault what a wizard chooses to do with a wand you create, after it leaves your hands. It’s not the wand choosing to do evil, but the wizard. You’re not to blame sir.”

Ollivander offered a self-deprecating chuckle. “I always tell my customers it’s the wand that chooses the wizard. Perhaps I need to add a cautionary tale and remind the wizard from that day on, he chooses what that wand will do next…for good or for ill. It’s a good reminder, lad, and I thank you.”

Harry clasped the wandmaker’s hand and offered thanks for his patience, and for the skill of father and son, before turning to leave to find Hagrid. As he went through the doorway, the old man called out, “Feel free to stop by and tell me how that wand is working for you, and what choices you make together. I have a feeling I’ll enjoy hearing the stories.”

“I will Mr Ollivander, I promise!” and with that, Harry slipped out of the store, looking for the oversized groundskeeper who was supposed to be supervising him.

Seven shops down, he found his target as Hagrid emerged from Eeylops Owl Emporium, bearing a cage with a snowy white owl and a shrunken box with a perch, owl treats, food and water bowls, and various other necessities.

Harry stared a bit as Hagrid boomed, “Got yer wand then? I collected yer robes for yeh. Madam Malkin shrunk ’em down already so here yeh go. Well then, happy birthday Harry. I figured yeh needed an animal ter take with yeh ter Hogwarts an’ this beauty jus’ popped righ’ up an’ insisted I choose her. Ain’ she lovely?”

While the owl was indeed gorgeous and seemed very affectionate when he reached into the cage, he knew Aunt Petunia would throw a fit; she’d never even once given into Dudley’s demands for a pet. An owl would be a nightmare. Oh well, nothing much he could do about that. He’d keep her in his room, and only let her in and out through his window. Maybe if he strongly reminded his Aunt and Uncle that she was a gift from the man who gave their son a pig’s tail, as sort of a half-veiled threat, he’d get away with it. Shrugging to himself, he thought it was worth a try.

“Well, we better be off home with yeh Harry. I’ll drop yeh off righ’ quick, then shoot back ter Hogwarts. Dumbledore owled tha’ he needs me back righ’ away.” Hagrid led the way back to the Leaky Cauldron, dodging through without interruption this time. He quickly loaded Harry, his supplies, and the owl in her cage into the sidecar, which made for a tight fit. But it was a relatively quick hop to Surrey and Harry was unloaded before five o’clock struck.

As expected, the Dursleys weren’t home, but Hagrid failed to notice or even ask if Harry had a key (as it happens, he’d never been trusted with one by his aunt or uncle). Hagrid mounted the motorcycle and started the engine, eager to head back to the school, only to stop as he made the turn around in the street and gestured Harry over.

“Almost forgot. Here’s yer ticket fer the Hogwarts Express. It leaves at eleven sharp on September 1st from Platform 9 ¾. I’d get there early if yeh can, get yerself a good seat. See yeh up at the school Harry, an’ enjoy the rest o’ yer summer!”

With a jaunty wave, Hagrid revved the engine and took off at a steady clip, leaving a bemused Harry behind in the middle of the street. Walking back to the Dursley’s front yard, he opened the gate to the side path and went into the back garden. If he was going to disappear in the blink of an eye, thanks to the goblins’ Portkey, he didn’t need to do it in full view of the neighbours. Stuffing his pockets full of all his belongings, and wrapping his arms tightly around his owl’s cage, he pressed a button on the Muggle watch on his wrist, which was actually a Portkey and felt the hook behind his navel grab as he disappeared into a whirlwind of colour, to the soundtrack of indignant squawks from a certain snowy owl, who distinctly preferred travelling under her own wing power.

Chapter 2

“Welcome back to Gringotts, Mr Potter,” Harry heard, stumbling as he landed on the hard marble floor, barely avoiding face-planting before finding his balance once more.

Looking up, he smiled and exclaimed, “Blacktor, what are you doing here? I hope you haven’t been stuck waiting very long for me. You didn’t even know that I’d be back today!”

The boy was uncharacteristically verbose at finding a familiar face. Said familiar face was bemused at the boy’s reaction, and secretly rather pleased he’d been remembered; so few witches and wizards cared enough to bother.

“I haven’t been waiting but half an hour, young sir. We have our ways of tracking people as they make their way through Diagon Alley, and we kept a close watch, to make sure you were safe,” was the reply.

Harry was a bit befuddled; he wasn’t used to adults who cared enough to keep track of him. The only reason his aunt and uncle ever did it was to make sure they could pile on the next chore the second he finished the last. Dudley did it as part of Harry Hunting. Neither option was friendly or ensured his safety.

Seeing the slight confusion on the boy’s face, and having a strong suspicion as to the cause (everyone had noticed Harry’s tatty clothing, short stature, and meagre build), Blacktor decided to move proceedings along.

“This is the employee Floo entrance, Mr Potter. It’s where you’ll arrive and depart each time you use your Portkey. The check-in desk is usually staffed, but if not, the wards will signal Firelock or myself of your arrival, and we can be here within minutes, no matter the time of day or night. Gringotts is ALWAYS available to you, young sir.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Now a special person wishes to meet you, a good friend of Firelock’s. But first, we have set aside a room for your use here in the bank. Consider it a bolt-hole if you will. We’ll drop your things and your owl off there, and get her some food and water. She’s a beautiful bird, I must say. What is her name?” Blacktor inquired.

Following along, listening attentively to all the wonderful changes evolving in his life, Harry responded, “I’ve only had her for about half an hour. Haven’t even had time to think it out. I was considering looking through one of my history books to find her the perfect name.”

The teller smiled at that and affirmed it was a decision worthy of some consideration, as he stopped at a closed door in an offshoot from the main corridor. He opened the door with a wave of his hand and Harry gaped at the wandless magic. But he followed his guide into the room and was pleased to find himself in a large, multi-use space.

To the right was a sitting area with a small sofa and armchair, a charmed window above the sofa showing a rural scene. Tucked in the corner was a desk with shelves above, that looked to be a perfect study nook. To the left was a day bed with a screen that could be pulled for privacy, along with a door beside a chest of drawers and wardrobe that he suspected led to a bathroom. Directly in front was a small dining table with four chairs and a short row of upper and lower cabinets, with the countertop holding a sink, a single burner stovetop, and a simple tea set. He didn’t see a fridge and wondered what the magical alternative was. Then Blacktor pointed out that one of the lower cabinets was a cooling/stasis cabinet, and that answered his question neatly.

Harry placed the owl’s cage on the table, then opened the door, freeing her to explore the room. A plate of owl treats, along with a bowl of water, appeared out of nowhere beside the cage and the bird decided that a snack, then a nap was in order. Giving the snowy creature a quick scritch of her chest feathers, Harry then turned to see where they were going next.

Blacktor headed out the door and turned back towards the main corridor, heading deeper into the bank. The walls and floors became more ornately decorated, with inlaid marble designs as they walked. Harry suspected this friend of Firelock’s was a rather important goblin indeed.

They made one more turn into an open area that was clearly a waiting area, filled as it was with couches and comfortable chairs of various heights, obviously intended for both human and goblin use. Waiting there was Firelock, who greeted Harry warmly with a handshake and a kind smile.

“Relatives not back then, Harry? No matter. We’ll have you stay in your room tonight, get you a meal or two, and we can make more definite plans tomorrow. But first, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, and my boss, Buruzagi Ragnok. He’s the chieftain of the British Gobelako Guduriak clan and also runs the bank. I’ve told him a little about you and he’s most eager to meet you. And given it’s already dinner time, would you like to join us?”

Harry, still mentally processing the foreign terms he’d heard Firelock use, and the fact he was about to meet the chieftain of the entire clan, just nodded mutely, while wondering how this had become his life.

Firelock was keenly aware of the boy’s discomfort, and mentally promised to do his best to make his experiences within Gringotts as pleasant as possible for a lad he thought had experienced little joy over the last decade. He shepherded Harry through the ornately carved double doors, while Blacktor, with a soft farewell, returned to his normal duties.

Inside the vast room behind the doors, Harry spotted a well-dressed goblin who looked on the slightly younger side of middle age, as far as he could tell. He was seated at the head of a long dining table, perusing an ancient looking parchment, and shaking his head a little at what he was reading. He looked up at the pair when he finished the scroll and smiled in welcome.

“Buruzagi Ragnok, may I present Mr Harry Potter?”

The chief goblin waved them over and accepted a handshake before gesturing at them to sit by him at the dining table.

“Welcome Mr Potter. We’ve been waiting anxiously to meet you for quite a few years. We became quite concerned for you when we were unable to make contact with your guardians or yourself. It’s good to see you in person.”

At that, a wave of Ragnok’s hand saw a range of drinks appear in the centre of the table along with some tiny tea sandwiches designed to whet, not spoil, the appetite for the meal that would take place shortly. Harry helped himself to an orange, pineapple and passionfruit juice blend, having never been offered such a delicacy in the Dursley home, and smiled blissfully at the taste, before selecting a couple of sandwiches to enjoy as well.

Ragnok and Firelock shared a glance; this was a boy who’d definitely been deprived of many of the creature comforts, to become so enamoured with something so measly as a glass of juice. Harry, concentrating on using his best manners and enjoying the delightful treats, missed the non-verbal conversation entirely.

When it looked like Harry had eaten enough to push back what was a deep-seated hunger, he looked up and blushed to see he was being watched.

“I’m glad you enjoyed your snack, Harry,” Ragnok commented. “But I’m sure you have a million questions that you would like answered?”

“Um, well, yes, please. I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me, taking me in, feeding me. Why? I’m nobody special. My relatives think I’m a freak.”

Ah, there was the low self-esteem that he’d been expecting, Firelock thought to himself. We’ve seen it so many times in abused wizarding children. He shook his head as Ragnok began to answer.

“Firstly Mr Potter, you are an important client to Gringotts, as is your family going back over thirty generations. We made our first partnership with the Potters about the time that Hogwarts was founded. Which was in the tenth century,” Ragnok added, seeing the question in Harry’s eyes.

“Wow, so long. But that’s brilliant! You must have met loads of my family. Can you tell me more? Aunt Petunia just says my parents were drunken layabouts who got by on the dole, before getting killed in a drunk-driving accident. She says Dumbledore dumped me on the doorstep during the night, one day after they were killed. Left a note, but didn’t even ring the bell, or ask if they wanted me.” Harry matter-of-factly recited his circumstances.

Ragnok took careful note of the information and continued. “Your great-grandfather, Charlus Potter saw the writing on the wall. The Dark Wizard Grindelwald had only just been defeated by Dumbledore, the Muggle world had been brought to its knees by the end of World War Two, and he could see the Ministry had no intention of making any changes to address the rampant corruption, or to limit the potential for the rise of another Dark Lord.”

He paused for a sip of the same juice Harry was enjoying, and continued, “Charlus approached us, knowing the Potter line was at great risk of extinction. For some reason, over many generations, it became the norm that only one child would be born, usually a son. And the family felt too strongly about making the wizarding world stronger and with greater equality. He knew that the name Potter would be an ongoing target.”

Harry nodded, that made good sense, so Ragnok went on.

“He asked us, in return for offering to stand up for Guduriak rights, whenever we were threatened by wizardkind, to make an oath that we would offer the protections of our clan to any Potter who followed, who had need of it. We felt it to be an equitable arrangement and agreed. We did our best to keep your grandparents, Fleamont and Euphemia safe during Voldemort’s rise, adding war wards to Potter Manor, where they lived. We also later offered the same level of Warding to your parent’s home in Godric’s Hollow, but they declined on the grounds that Albus Dumbledore had himself taken care of securing the property.” Ragnok paused for another sip of juice.

“Sadly, just months before your parents were killed, Monty and Fee (as your grandparents went by) succumbed to a severe case of Dragon Pox. When your parents also died, we looked for you, Harry, wanting to ensure you were placed in a safe home, but we were thwarted when Dumbledore placed you with the Dursleys the next day, then locked away your location so no other parties could find you, even those with your best interests at heart.”

Harry processed this flood of information for a moment, before blurting out, “How come Dumbledore was the one to decide I went to the Dursleys? He never came to check on me or even sent me a letter. How could he just dump me there and not even bother to make sure they were taking care of me properly? I wasn’t even two years old!” The end of the outcry rose almost plaintively, as Harry started to realise the impact of Dumbledore’s interference with his life.

“We think the same way, Harry. I’ve launched an investigation into your relatives and Dumbledore’s actions. At some point, not tonight, we’d like to talk to you about how it was to live with the Dursleys if you’re willing. But tomorrow will come soon enough and we can talk more then. In the meantime, dinner is served,” the chieftain announced as bowls of French onion soup appeared before all three of them.

Harry tucked in eagerly, almost drunk on the delicious aroma rising from the bowl in front of him. He finished the soup in half the time of his companions, and briefly entertained the idea of licking the bowl, before deciding it would be bad manners.

“So, let’s leave our previous topic alone for now. I’m sure you have many other questions, given you knew nothing of magic before today. Let loose, Harry and we’ll see how much we can teach you.” Firelock had finished his own soup and knew the boy must be about to explode with all his new experiences.

“So why do wizards call you ‘goblins’ when you have a different name for your own people? Seems kind of rude to me?” The inquisitive boy planned to make the most of this chance to ask questions for the first time in his life.

Firelock smiled at Harry’s indignation on the Guduriak’s behalf, then went on to answer. “Our proper name is Gobelako Guduriak, which means Warriors of the Gobela, a place in the Basque region of northern Spain, where all Guduriak can trace their roots to. Wizards heard Gobelako and bastardised the name into goblin. Those who care to acknowledge our real name and our traditions call us the Guduriak or Warriors.”

Harry absorbed the information but wasn’t done being offended on behalf of his new friends and allies.

“Hagrid said you spoke Gobbledygook, but that doesn’t sound right. Growing up, my uncle used to say that about foreign people. I looked it up in the dictionary one time, and it means talking gibberish or rubbish and making no sense. That seems rather cruel of wizards to say that about such nice people.”

“You are entirely correct Harry,” Ragnok re-joined the conversation, having finished his own soup.

“Most wizards consider non-humans with magic to be little more than creatures. They ‘allow’ us to manage their gold, and yet think us weak and greedy when we do so. We are denied the right to use a wand, nor do we participate in wizarding government. We are only truly protected in that Gringotts Bank and all the depths below are Guduriak territory, exempted from wizarding laws by treaty. There have been many wars over the years, though as you will learn at Hogwarts, wizards diminish them as rebellions, as though they have authority over us. But these wars have ensured that there are clearly defined rules between our two peoples. Let’s just say that the Guduriak aren’t known as the Warriors of Gobela for no reason! And to fully answer your question, our language is Gudurian.”

Harry thought that sounded about right. There was always someone trying to bully someone else, at least as far as he could tell in his eleven years of experience. And trust could be pretty hard to find when one group lorded it over another.

“So, I’m guessing this means there’s more to being Guduriak than just being bankers?”

“You would be correct, Harry,” Firelock answered. “We have an entire nation below us. We don’t share this with many wizards, but the special relationship we have with your family offers you some added privileges. We are able to expand space magically and connect long-distant clans as if they were only a short walk down the road. It’s a unique skill to our people and proves you don’t necessarily need a wand to be magically powerful.”

Ragnok took up the narrative. “As you might guess, we have a long warrior tradition, but our true origins are in mining and metalsmithing. We created the weapons that allowed others to be warriors also. Swords, daggers, armouring – all these were our stock in trade. Though never let it be said that a Guduriak was incapable of wielding any weapon with great skill. But it’s mostly for defence. We had no desire for conquest, and in our earliest days, until the time of the Romans, we lived safely side-by-side with our non-magical and magical Basque neighbours.”

“But Hagrid said we had to hide our magic from Muggles. That only those with witches or wizards in the family were allowed to know,” Harry exclaimed.

“Hagrid was correct, up to a point. There have been times in history when Muggles and magicals lived peaceably together. But that began to change around the time of the rise of the Roman Empire, when humans in general developed a strong urge for conquest, invading the lands of others for the sake of power and wealth. Even as they sought our weapons for their wars, they began to oppress all those native to the invaded lands. Magical beings began to hide themselves, and this only worsened over the next fifteen hundred years or so. In 1692, the Statue of Secrecy came into effect. While created by wizards alone, it has become a guideline for pretty much all magical creatures over the years since then. But enough talk for a bit, it’s time for the main course!” Despite the earlier sandwiches and soup course, Ragnok had worked up an appetite again.

The trio turned their attention to the crispy roasted leg of lamb that appeared in front of them, accompanied by golden roasted potatoes, bowls of peas with mint, roasted caramelised carrots, and steamed green beans, along with a gravy boat of rich brown gravy and a small jug of freshly made mint sauce. Firelock took up the carving knife and fork and set to the roast lamb as Ragnok and Harry added vegetables to their plate. Ragnok had requested a bountiful but simple dinner from the kitchens, suspecting Harry wasn’t used to rich or plentiful food.

Seeing the boy eye the carving utensils and cutlery on the table, Ragnok beat Harry to the question.

“Yes, our metalsmiths provide for all our domestic needs as well. It’s a good way of judging how well an apprentice is learning their trade, before allowing them to move on to forging weaponry. We have others who specialise in weaving and tapestry, genealogy, Warding and Ward-Breaking, Curse-Breaking, healing, rituals, finance, of course, even some who are seers. Those not called to a particular profession manage the day-to-day running of our homes, stores, farms, communities and the bank itself.”

Harry simply nodded at that, as he’d just accepted several slices of lamb and added a generous amount of gravy, and the wonderful aromas were calling his name. Ever polite though, he waited until his fellow diners had full plates of their own, before diving into the best meal he’d ever had in his life, outdoing even the late lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.

Sated and contemplating a food coma, Harry was startled when Firelock asked, “Will you be alright staying in your room tonight? If you want, I’d be happy to take the couch so you weren’t alone in a strange place. I’d take you to my home in our clan enclave, or Enklabe as we call it, below. But it takes a vote of our Elders to permit a non-Guduriak to enter our separate world. Not even Buruzagi Ragnok can force the issue. And to satisfy your curiosity, the word means Chieftain.”

Harry weighed his thoughts carefully. While it was strange to trust these new people so quickly, they’d been nothing but kind to him, giving him what information he needed, not to mention food and a safe place to sleep. But on the other hand, he was only a newly minted eleven-year-old, his entire world had been turned on its end over the last nineteen hours, and he was desperately in need of the presence of a friend.

Firelock could practically read those thoughts on Harry’s face; he wasn’t destined to ever be a great poker player.

“You know what? Let’s just go with me staying tonight and we’ll talk more about ongoing arrangements for you in the morning. Will that be alright Harry?”

Harry just nodded, unable to speak around the strange knot in his throat, for fear that he’d spill tears for the first time in years. It never paid to cry in front of his relatives; that always made a bad situation worse.

Sensing the potential for tears, Ragnok brightened the room with the announcement, “Who’s ready for cake? Someone told me there’s a birthday boy amongst us. We must have cake!”

A now laughing Harry smiled widely as a generously sized cake appeared in front of them, with the words ‘Happy birthday Harry’ iced on the top. There were no candles as that was not part of the Guduriak traditions, but Harry didn’t mind in the least. It was his first birthday dinner, with an unsquished cake (and no sign of Dudley) to top it off, and nothing was going to ruin this. When his slice of cake was shown to be chocolate stuffed with raspberries and cream, he was in heaven. And even though he’d thought he was already full, he somehow made room for a substantial piece.

By 8 pm, Harry was fading fast. He’d managed only a couple of hours of frigid and broken sleep before Hagrid had bashed the door in at midnight, and he’d been on the go since. Nor was a flying motorbike conducive to sleep, as cold as the wind had been. Recognising the signs, Firelock prodded Harry awakes, said their goodnights to Ragnok, and returned to Harry’s room. After a quick wash up and toothbrushing with the available supplies, while Firelock ensured the owl was fed and content on a perch that had magically shown up, Harry was soon dressed in the supplied pyjamas and dead to the world.

Firelock curled up on the sofa, with a pillow and warm blanket, and a soft glow from the fireplace that also hadn’t been there earlier and contemplated the much-too-small boy sleeping on the daybed across the room. As he drifted off to sleep, he added a personal oath to this one small Potter, to bind with the one of his people. He would protect this boy with his life if necessary and do everything in his power to ensure he found a much happier home, then he drifted off to sleep. Deep in the Enklabe, Buruzagi Ragnok found himself making a similar promise. Young Harry Potter had found himself a pair (with an entire clan to back them up) of protectors. This day had irrevocably changed his life.

~0~0~

The next morning, Thursday, August 1st, Soraya Whittaker was woken soon after dawn by the persistent pecking of a post-owl on her bedroom window. Startled awake, it took a moment for her to figure out the source of the noise, and react to let the owl in.

Grabbing a dressing gown from the back of the desk chair, she settled herself into her chair and addressed the owl. The medium-sized tawny owl fluttered onto the desk and presented a leg, with a parchment message attached. Retrieving the message and offering an owl treat as a reward, Soraya lounged back in her chair to read the missive. It was short and to the point.

Senior Warder Whittaker,

Your presence is required at the office of Buruzagi Ragnok at 8:30 am sharp, to assist with a special programme, uniquely suited to your talents and background. Your team leader has been notified of your absence, at the Buruzagi’s request.

Yours,

Firelock

Laguntzailea to

Buruzagi Ragnok

Well, that was a mystery, Soraya thought to herself. Brief and terse as Guduriak letters usually were, she was no wiser on what the day would bring on the third re-reading. Ah well, all would be revealed in a matter of hours. Time to hit the coffee, no point in going back to bed now.

Ten minutes later, the twenty-nine-year-old Warder was in her favourite squishy armchair by the window of her living room, overlooking Gastronomic Alley, a mug of rich Ethiopian coffee in her hand. Running perpendicular to Diagon Alley, her street was known for its eclectic mix of eating places, ranging from hole-in-the-wall kebab places, Chinese and Indian takeaways, and the solitary pizza joint, to several cafés, restaurants and pubs. On the weekends, the undisputed king of the Alley was a rather pricey and highly popular sports bar, the Golden Snitch, where patrons could place their memories of Quidditch matches into a projection pensieve for the crowd to enjoy while ploughing their way through American-inspired bar food and loads of beer. It was quite a change of atmosphere from the normally staid if not stunted wizarding world, and the flats above attracted mostly young renters, willing to trade peace for ambience and good food.

Soraya enjoyed the atmosphere immensely, even if it could get a bit noisy on weekend nights. She was fortunate that she’d snagged a flat above the one apothecary in the street, with a roaring trade in Hangover and Sober-up potions. Closing at 9 pm (patrons needed to buy what they needed on the way into the pubs), it ensured Soraya slept more peacefully than those renting flats over the late-night establishments. She slowly sipped her coffee, kept warm in her charmed cup, and considered just what the day might bring.

~0~0~

A few minutes walk away, back on Diagon Alley proper, though deep inside the bank territory, Harry was also beginning to wake. At first, he peered around the blurred, yet unfamiliar, room. But then he began to recall the events of the day before and realised he was in his own studio flat essentially, safe behind the walls of Gringotts Bank. Not to mention, he could now count the Guduriak clan’s chieftain and second-in-command as friends. Frankly, if it wasn’t for the fact he was due at Hogwarts in a month’s time, and he kind of liked sunlight, he’d be content to never leave.

Gazing over at a still-sleeping Firelock on his couch, he also realised that somehow, a corner fireplace had appeared in the room, and it looked like a selection of teas and coffees had made their way onto the countertop.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Harry headed toward the kitchenette to explore his breakfast options, moving quietly as he was well practised in doing, not wanting to wake Firelock. The cooling cabinet offered a lovely selection of food. There was already cooked toast in stasis with a note that a touch of his wand would render everything hot and crispy again. A selection of jams and marmalades were also available. There was also bacon and eggs, and as Harry contemplated cooking both on a single burner, a soft creaking sound caught his attention. When he looked up a second burner had appeared. Harry grinned; oh how he loved magic!

When Firelock began to rouse to the delightful smells coming from the kitchen area just a few minutes later, Harry already had bacon cooking, had started heating water for tea or coffee in a magical kettle, poured glasses of juice and set them on the table, and had the eggs beaten for scrambling when the bacon was a little more done.

Rather awed by the display, Firelock wandered up and said, “It’s obvious you know exactly what you’re doing in a kitchen, Harry. It should stand you in good stead when you get to Potions classes. Oh and good morning, by the way. Is there any coffee?”

It was rather a garbled and run-on sentence, which made Harry smile as the kettle whistled and he poured the boiling water over something that was called a coffee bag. It acted like a tea bag to infuse the water to the desired strength and flavour and had become quite popular with the Guduriak, who appreciated a strong cup of coffee any time they got a break in their day.

Harry wondered out loud, “Is there a way to create a spell attached to the coffee bag, that heats the water, then releases the grounds, once the two go into a mug together? You’d be able to make a cup of coffee anywhere and anytime if it could be done.”

Firelock paused for a moment, considering the possibilities. If it worked, it would be a brilliant innovation and could be extremely profitable if added to tea bags as well. Guduriak customers would love it, as they were a clan full of caffeine addicts, as would young magicals limited in their use of underage magic, and he would be able to ensure Harry would be credited for the idea and receive part of the profits. One of his up-and-coming Rune Masters might enjoy the challenge. He shared the idea with Harry, who seemed to feel it was no big deal. But he was agreeable to the project and would happily add his two Knuts worth if he came up with some more items that might become popular.

While Harry and Firelock finished breakfast, then prepared for the day ahead with showers and a change of clothes (Harry was glad he had his trunk with him), Soraya Whittaker was nervously awaiting her meeting with Ragnok, someone she’d only met once in person, briefly, in the past.

On the dot of 8:30, the doors to Ragnok’s office opened and she was invited inside the well-appointed room, or suite really. She offered a nod of respect to the Buruzagi, then awaited the invitation to sit down, before joining the Guduriak leader in an informal arrangement of comfortable chairs with low tables. As she sat, a cup of her favourite coffee, doctored as she preferred with milk and sugar, appeared on the table at her side, and she sighed with appreciation at the first sip.

“Ms Whittaker, I find myself in the position of having an odd request to make of one of my employees. It will require some of your professional Warding skills, but I admit to shamelessly drawing on your background as a half-blood witch who has successfully straddled the wizarding and Muggle worlds her entire life. And I confess to hoping that you have some of your late parents’ abilities for introducing a completely Muggle-raised wizard to the wizarding world. The young man in question is one of our most valued clients, and subject to an oath of protection from Gringotts and all Guduriak in fact. And let’s just say that his home life is…far from what is ideal.”

Ragnok paused for a moment to drink from his water glass, then continued.

“I am needing someone with the ability to act as a mentor, teacher, temporary guardian, and personal protector for the next month until he begins at Hogwarts. But in all likelihood, if the two of you get along, the mentorship would continue throughout his school years. I assure you, most of your time will be spent with your Warding team, and it will in no way impact the progress of your professional career. Truthfully, it would be looked upon favourably, that you supported the honour of this bank in helping to uphold our oath. But you have the right to refuse if you don’t feel this is something you wish to do. Would you be willing to take on this commitment? Take some time to think about it, there’s no rush.”

Ragnok sat back into his chair, picking up his coffee cup and the pile of parchments that sat to hand, obviously intending to give her some space to deliberate right there.

Soraya considered the request for several minutes, while Ragnok finished his coffee and read over the documents. She’d lost both of her parents during the first war with Voldemort. Her mum had been a Muggleborn from Wales and her Dad a half-blood from Yorkshire. They’d met on the train to Hogwarts in first year, both sorted into Ravenclaw from there and had been each other’s soulmates; they’d never dated anyone else.

Voldemort had targeted them thanks to her parents’ dream of opening a primary school for Muggleborns. It would meet all the Muggle requirements for education but would add classes on the history of magic, introduce magical theory, and even give them an early start on non-wanded subjects like Astronomy and Potions. Her Mum and Dad had been killed days before the first class was due to begin.

Soraya had managed to complete her OWL year in the aftermath of their deaths, before moving in with her paternal aunt and uncle. Having already been used to spoiling Soraya since birth, being unable to have children of their own, the half-blood couple were very open to maintaining links to the Muggle world and had been the best possible substitute parents for a grieving teen.

She then thought about the young wizard needing her help. To come blindly into the magical world was difficult; she’d seen it often with children her parents had helped, and while at Hogwarts. But if he was an oath-protected and wealthy client, then there would be all kinds of expectations placed on the young man. He’d be like a sheep amongst the wolves, both at school and in the wider magical world. And if he came from a background of abuse or neglect, as Ragnok had hinted, he’d possibly struggle to have the social skills to meet the challenge.

She’d heard her parents’ stories about how some Muggles feared or hated the magic in their own child; they hadn’t been pretty. And that was the tipping point in the making of her decision. This position would not only bring honour to the bank by helping to uphold the oath but also would honour her parents, by working towards some of the goals they’d held so dear.

“I’ll do it, sir,” she spoke, startling Ragnok a little; he’d been deep into puzzling out the parchment before him.

“Very good. Let’s move over to the dining table. We have considerable planning to do, and little time in which to do it. You’ll need to make notes.”

Which is exactly what they did. Ragnok revealed that her new responsibility was none other than Harry Potter, and relayed what he and Firelock knew or suspected about his home life. The Potters’ wills had never been presented for a formal reading, so there was no certainty of where they’d intended the boy to be placed. Ragnok had authorised a search of the Potter Vaults, under the auspices of the Oath of Protection he’d given Harry’s great-grandfather, in the hope that they would be found if they existed.

He wanted the Aunt’s home in Surrey to be checked for protection and monitoring wards, and the ward structure might be revamped if needed. Ragnok also inquired if Soraya would be willing to address their concerns with the Aunt, and if the Dursleys continued to be abusive, to provide Harry with a temporary home for the rest of the month.

The pair sketched out an educational plan for Harry, including the wizarding social structure, Harry’s future role as head of House Potter, and magical traditions, along with making sure he understood the House system at Hogwarts and the best ways to succeed and avoid some of the inbuilt pitfalls of the school (House rivalry being one). They even discussed taking Harry to a Quidditch game, thinking it would be a fine treat for the boy. A shopping trip into Muggle London was also on the agenda, to replace the near rags that were Dudley Dursley’s hand-me-downs. And it went almost without saying that Harry would likely be spending considerable time with the Healers. It would be a busy month if all their goals could be achieved, but Soraya always liked a challenge and was looking forward to meeting her new charge.

Once their plans were complete, Ragnok went to his desk and pressed a button, which was keyed to signal Firelock that they were ready for his deputy and Harry to join the meeting. They arrived a few minutes later with a surprise addition, Firelock’s nephew Grinlast. Of a similar age to Harry, the young rascal was always getting into things he shouldn’t, but he did it with such a cheeky and endearing demeanour that he usually got away with it.

Goodness knows how he’d found out about Harry though. When Ragnok had gone home to the Enklabe last night, he’d only talked to his wife Wildspur about the eventful day he’d had. She’d been horrified by what she’d heard and had left this morning before even Ragnok did. Wildspur had been intent on visiting all the other Elders to petition for Harry to be able to visit the Enklabe; there was no way she’d been able to resist the urge to look out for a motherless orphan, no way at all. But Firelock had stayed with Harry and hadn’t been home to talk to Grinlast. It was only a minor mystery, but it piqued the Buruzagi’s curiosity.

“Well, my friend’s nephew, I see you’ve met our honoured guest and become acquainted?” Ragnok asked.

Grinlast just nodded and left the talking up to Firelock; it had been his idea after all.

“Harry woke very early this morning. It seems he’s used to being up and going by 6 am each day. So by 7:15, we were fed and dressed and rather at a loose end. I thought Grinlast might be good company and he was willing to join us. We’ve spent the last couple of hours teaching Harry some basic Gudurian, and Harry has been teaching us the Muggle game of draughts. It’s been an interesting cultural exchange.” A slight chuckle finished off that statement, suggesting there was much more to the tale, to be heard later when they were alone.

“Egun on Ragnarok buruzagia.” Harry wished Ragnok good morning. “Espero dut ondo lo egin izana.”

(I hope you slept well.)

“Oso ondo egin nuen lo. Eskerrik asko galdetzeagatik.”

(I slept very well. Thank you for asking.)

Harry pondered the words he’d heard as not all were familiar, but he thought he could parse out the meaning from some of the words and phrases he’d learned that morning.

“You said something about sleeping and said thank you. So I’m guessing you slept okay and were glad I asked?”

Harry found himself surprised by all three Guduriak standing and applauding him. That hadn’t happened to him before, ever.

“Well done, Harry. It seems we might want to add Gudurian tutoring to our plans for the rest of the summer. It appears you have a fine ear for languages, young man.”

Harry grinned from ear to ear. He could learn to like being in a place where adults encouraged and complimented him. This beat the Dursleys any day.

“Come let us sit at the table and talk over our plans. Grinlast, you may stay only if Harry is agreeable, and you don’t interfere or interrupt.” Harry was fine with his new friend, well first friend in truth, staying and indicated as such.

Once everyone was settled around the head of the table, helped themselves to the freshly baked scones, jam, and clotted cream that appeared before them, and poured their drinks, they got down to business. An unknown woman was sitting at the table already, but she wasn’t introduced and was busy writing notes and lists it seemed. So Harry concentrated on the food before him instead.

Ragnok got the discussion rolling with the first item on the agenda, Harry’s living situation.

“Harry, I have one of the witches on staff disillusioned in the front yard of your Aunt and Uncle’s home right now. She is watching for their return, so we will know when to approach them. We will either offer a paid arrangement for room and board, in trade for a binding agreement that you will be well fed, well treated, and not required to spend your days on pointless chores. They must also agree to you being able to come and go so we can help you prepare for Hogwarts and the wizarding world at large. If your relatives are unwilling to make this agreement, then we will make a place for you here with us and will ensure that your aunt relinquishes custody to someone we can trust. Is this acceptable to you?”

Harry answered with a huge grin, “That would be brilliant! Though getting away from the Dursleys altogether sounds pretty good too.”

“Well, that gets us to our next point. Harry, I’d like you to meet Soraya Whittaker. She’s one of our finest upcoming Warders and has agreed to act in loco parentis for you until you go to Hogwarts. She was a few years behind your parents, in Gryffindor also, so she was familiar with them at least. Soraya lives about five minutes from here and has offered you her spare room. And she’s willing to help us with getting you up to speed, so you’ll feel comfortable at Hogwarts, and in the wizarding world in general. She’d be the one to look at the wards at your Aunt’s home. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind Harry hanging over your shoulder for that, would you Ms Whittaker?” Ragnok gestured for her to move up a couple of seats and join the small group at the dining table, which she did with an open and generous smile.

Harry was intrigued by the newcomer. To think that he’d be able to talk with someone else who knew his Mum and Dad was amazing. He catalogued what he could tell from her appearance. Soraya had light brown hair with almost blonde tints, and a complexion he’d once heard his Aunt describe as an ‘English Rose’. She was only about four inches taller than him, so not very tall at all, and had an athletic build; he wondered if Warding was physically demanding. Her smile was friendly, and she wasn’t pushing to crowd against him, anxious for a chance to get close to The Boy-Who-Lived. Soraya shook his hand with a comfortable grip and took the seat next to him.

But before any discussion could take place, Firelock re-entered and reported the Dursleys were home and appeared quite disgruntled over their ‘adventures’ of the last few days. None of them had wondered, as far as the watcher could hear, about Harry’s absence or where he might have slept last night. It seemed ‘out of sight, out of mind’ was the order of the day.

Ragnok turned to Harry and asked, “Do you wish to accompany Ms Whittaker to the Dursley home, or stay here and decide what to do when she reports back? If you go and your Aunt signs over custody to us, you will be able to collect any other belongings you have there. Otherwise, Ms Whittaker can retrieve what you need, if you can tell her where things are.”

“There’s nothing there for me, sir. Everything I have is hand-me-downs from my much larger cousin, for clothing, and I was never allowed books or toys. But I think I would like to go anyway if only to look them in the eye and perhaps have a chance to tell them what I think of them as relatives. And I would like to make sure my Aunt isn’t keeping anything of my Mum’s from me. Plus, it would be nice to show them that someone wants me and doesn’t think I’m just a freak. And well, it would be quite enjoyable to harass my cousin for a very suitable tail.” Harry couldn’t resist laughing at that visual.

Ragnok and Firelock joined in with the laughter for a moment, though they also shared a look, disturbed that Harry had been made to feel like a freak by those who should act like family. Ragnok looked at Harry, “As long as you feel you will be safe being there for a short time.”

Turning to Soraya, the chieftain asked, “Would you prefer to use the Portkey on Harry’s watch to get into the back garden, or do you wish to Side-Along Apparate instead? Harry’s only ever tried the former one time.”

“Want to try something new Harry? It’ll feel a bit like you’re being squeezed down a narrow tube, except it doesn’t hurt. But you get there pretty instantly. My Mum loved science fiction books and said it was like being teleported.”

Harry smiled at Soraya and responded, “Apparating sounds like a bit of an adventure. I’m game.”

“Okay then, do you need anything from your room here?” Harry shook his head. “Well, we’ll be off then. We’re headed to the Floo room, kiddo.” And with that pronouncement, the Warder and the Boy-Who-Lived exited Ragnok’s office, Little Whinging bound.

This left Ragnok and Firelock to send Grinlast back to the Enklabe, where he was supposed to be helping his mother in the garden. The two Guduriak then⁴ sat and shared their thoughts. They were now beyond certain that Harry had been abused, especially now he was freer with his words and sharing small details. They were both rather hoping Petunia and Vernon Dursley wanted to wash their hands of their nephew for good. But they discussed the plan Ragnok had plotted out with Soraya, fleshing it out a little more, and contacting the Healers to evaluate Harry in a couple of days, when he’d settled in. That done, the pair turned to other business for the bank, working companionably together, as they had done for many years.

Chapter 3

Harry wasn’t quite sure what he expected would happen when he turned up at Number Four Privet Drive. Soraya had Apparated them into a secluded area of a park a couple of blocks from the Dursleys’ home, using the short walk to get a quick heads-up of Harry’s history with the family.

When Soraya knocked on the door, Harry safely tucked behind her, with her wand ready to drop from its holster into her hand, she hadn’t expected to be greeted by a thin, horse-faced woman, and practically dragged inside the house, with Harry being pulled in with the woman’s other arm.

“You better have brought her here to fix my Duddykins, you freak, or your Uncle will be sorting you out right properly when he gets home from the bank. £15,000 that private hospital wants, to remove that tail your lot gave my darling boy! And as a banker’s cheque up front, no less! Dudders, sweetlings, come down here, please. There’s someone here who can take care of that little problem.”

Wow, Aunt Petunia was on a roll, Harry thought. He looked at Soraya and asked, “Can you remove the pig’s tail Hagrid gave my cousin? I think his broken wand is in his umbrella somehow and that’s what he used. Might make everything a lot easier if we do.”

By now, the immensely obese Dudley had thundered down the stairs, rounding the newel post to talk with his mother, giving Soraya an ample view to assess what Hagrid had done. Yes, she’d be able to remove it. And truly, Hagrid shouldn’t have done such a thing, regardless of the degree of provocation.

“I can fix it, Harry.” Turning to Petunia, “Where should we get this done?”

They all trooped into the living room, Petunia pulling the curtains firmly closed so no one would suspect any freakish behaviour was going on. Personally, Harry suspected the drapes being closed mid-morning was more likely to get the bored gossips going; it took little provocation usually.

“Yes, that’s an easy fix. Just stand there, young man, and I’ll be done in a jiffy,” at which Soraya wordlessly chained a series of numbing, severing and healing spells, so effortlessly that all Harry could do was stand and gape at his new mentor and (hopefully) guardian’s skills. In a matter of seconds the tail was gone, and Dudley was stampeding up the stairs to the guest room, which had a full-length mirror on the back of the door to confirm he was tail-free once more.

With a sniff of disdain, Petunia directed Harry and Soraya into the kitchen. She wasn’t wasting the front parlour on riff-raff, and she was desperately in need of a cuppa anyway.

While Petunia waited for the kettle to boil, Soraya presented both the paid room and board option, along with signing over guardianship to Soraya and Gringotts until the end of Harry’s first year at Hogwarts.

In mere seconds, Petunia had grabbed the pen and signed away guardianship. She told Harry to fetch anything he wanted from the house and be quick about it, before turning to Soraya.

“Miss Whittaker, as far as Vernon and I are concerned, we would happily sign over permanent guardianship to you without blinking. If you can arrange this, you’re welcome to return to get our signature, though please do call or write ahead of time, and make an appointment. We didn’t wish for the boy when my sister died, nor were we asked if we were willing to take him in. He’s been nothing but trouble.”

The Gringotts Warder was struggling to remain polite and professional in the face of such vitriol against the small and always polite boy. Nevertheless, this opportunity was a gift.

“Mrs Dursley, that may be possible to arrange. But I propose that Harry should get something out of the deal. Do you have any of your sister’s belongings here, or photos and the like of Harry’s parents and grandparents?”

Soraya paused, dangling the bait in front of the odious woman.

“His mother’s trunk is in the attic. He might as well take it. Saves me from putting it in the burn bin. I might be able to find a few photos of my parents that could be copied for the boy I suppose. Very well then. The trunk may go with you today, and then if you return for permanent custody, I’ll have some photos you may make copies of.”

Before Soraya could utter a word, Petunia led them to the foot of the stairs and ordered, “Boy, go up into the attic. You’ll find a trunk in the corner above the spare room. Bring it down. Mind you don’t bash it into any walls as you do. And gather up the rest of your things, when you’re done in the attic.” With that, Petunia returned to the kitchen, turned off the whistling kettle and poured herself a cup of tea, neglecting to even offer a cup to Soraya.

Five minutes later, there was the thud of a trunk landing in the hallway of the floor above. A minute or two later Harry appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Soraya moved quickly to shrink the trunk that had quite an impressive locking and Warding system on it for a schoolgirlish attempt to protect her trunk. Putting her wand back in its holster, she bid farewell to Harry’s tormentors and headed out to the backyard through the French doors. Petunia jumped at the sharp crack of Apparation as the pair left. In a matter of moments, they were back in the Floo room at Gringotts, glad to have escaped the oppressive feel that was Four Privet Drive.

~0~0~

“Let’s get back to your room for now Harry, and I can send a message to Firelock and see what they want to do next. My suggestion is we go to my flat at lunchtime, and you can choose whether you’d prefer to stay here, in which I’d have an adjoining room assigned to me, or if you’d like to stay at my flat. Either way, we can grab something to eat and get to know each other a little better, and that may help you decide.”

“I feel like I’m being such a pest, you know? A day and a half ago, I didn’t even know magic was real, but I did know that I didn’t like living with my relatives. Now I’ve met all these new people, who seem to care about me and are rearranging their lives to help me figure out the wizarding world. It all feels very strange!” Having reached his room, Harry placed the shrunken trunk on the coffee table in front of the couch, and Soraya transformed it back to full size.

“You’re right, it is a lot, Harry. And from what I saw this morning, you’re not exactly used to being treated kindly. How about you have a fish through your Mum’s trunk, and I’ll head to Ragnok’s office and fill them in. I’m guessing you wouldn’t object to Gringotts and I holding your guardianship, until you turn seventeen and come of age?” Soraya suspected there’d be no argument at all, and she was right.

“Truthfully, I think it would be brilliant. You three, four if you count Grinlast have made me feel more welcome and at home than I think I’ve ever been. So I’ll do my rummaging and you’ll tell the boss and then we’ll…do lunch, is the trendy phrase, I think. I know I heard it on the telly one day when I was locked in my cupboard.”

There wasn’t much to say to that last statement, so she forced a chuckle at the phrase and headed off in search of her bosses. Though truthfully, after her encounter with Petunia Dursley, she’d prefer a long shower. Somehow, she’d come away feeling dirty, just by being in the woman’s presence. It might be an idea to show the memory in Ragnok’s pensieve.

~0~0~~

It turned out that Ragnok and Firelock were going to be busy until 3 pm, so Soraya just deposited the memory and headed out for a long lunch. Harry was amused to see them heading to a street that he couldn’t remember seeing the day before, just around the corner from the bank.

“Most of the side alleys are charmed to be a little less noticeable to non-residents of those alleys, to avoid being inundated with hyper-curious students from all over the countryside, just during July and August. For those who’ve been here before, it’s plain as day. And it’s on the map Tom has at the Leaky Cauldron, for newcomers to the Alley. But well, that’s another thing that was missed by having Hagrid be the one to help you with your school shopping.”

Harry thought that made good sense really. The businesses didn’t lose their existing customers and would gain new ones in a manageable way because the map was needed to easily find the street.

As they turned into Gastronomic Alley, Harry mentally chuckling at the name, Soraya asked, “Any idea what you’d like for lunch? We’ve got several cafés and pubs; mostly traditional English fare. But there’s kebabs, pizza, Indian, Chinese, French and Italian as well. I’m guessing international cuisine wasn’t exactly welcomed at the Dursleys?”

Harry chuckled, “Yeah, you’d be right. Exotic food for my uncle was adding half a teaspoon of curry powder to a stew and calling it curry. They’d get a takeaway pizza sometimes, but they never gave me any. They’d throw the crusts to the birds, while I sat there starving.”

Soraya was keeping tabs in her head, so she could relay all the tales of abuse and neglect to Ragnok and the Healers. In the space of a morning, Harry had found himself a fierce protector.

“So what sounds good then Harry?”

“It’s like there are too many choices! I want to try them all! But…I think maybe Italian? I cooked a few pasta things at the Dursleys. Mostly in casseroles. I’d like to try something more…what’s the word?”

“Authentic?” Soraya supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it. There’s so much of the world, even the Muggle one, that I know nothing about. Let’s start fixing that with Italian,” Harry finished enthusiastically.

So Italian they did. Harry thought the chicken carbonara was heaven on a plate, though he also enjoyed the taste of spaghetti bolognese that Soraya passed over. They had minestrone soup to start, with cannoli to finish, leaving Harry thinking he’d need either a nap or a long walk to work it all off, maybe both.

Leaving Ristorante Roma, they walked four doors down and turned into a sheltered doorway. Soraya led him up two flights of stairs, into her top-storey flat. It was a bright space, with large windows letting in the August sunlight. She had an eclectic mix of furniture, aimed more for comfort, over style. The living area was open plan, with a medium-sized but efficient kitchen tucked off to the side, separated from the room by a breakfast bar. A doorway led to a short hallway towards the back of the flat, with two decent size bedrooms, each with an ensuite. The bedrooms looked out over the outer edge of the magical district into London, and the bathrooms had skylights for added brightness. Harry’s bathroom, being off the guest room, also had a door into the hallway, so visitors could use it.

“Wow, this is huge, Soraya. The building doesn’t look nearly this big on the outside.” Harry was very impressed. This place was almost as big as the Dursleys.”

Now it was Soraya’s turn to chuckle, “Welcome to the world of wizarding space expansion. When I knew you’d likely be staying, I had one of my spellcaster friends pop in and add the second bedroom and bathroom. We can change your room however you like, within reason. Adding a three-storey tower to the top would be a bit dodgy. But paint colour, flooring, wall texture, different furniture? Magic can make all that happen.”

All Harry could do is gape at that, then gaze around the room that could be his. There was a large bed with a beautiful headboard made of tigerwood. It turns out that Soraya had asked her friend to match the bed to Harry’s wand. He had a pair of bedside tables, a desk placed next to the window that would be perfect for summer homework (Hagrid had shared that little tidbit about school life), and a window seat perfect for curling up with a good book. Or staring at the sky and skyline of London, while contemplating life. A low, squishy armchair sat by the fireplace with its own end table, and Harry paused for a moment to contemplate the luxury of having a warm fire in his own bedroom. A set of built-in robes, complete with dresser drawers, finished off the room.

“Do you like it, Harry? Seriously, we can change about anything,” a suddenly anxious Soraya asked. “How about the paint colours or the bedding?”

In point of fact, Soraya’s friend had gotten it exactly right somehow. The walls were a sky blue that somehow managed to feel warm, not cool. The floors were carpeted in a rich cream colour and were luxuriously soft. The bedding was a mix of silver and Harry’s favourite cobalt blue. He wouldn’t change a thing! Maybe a few posters on the wall one day, but then he would be a teenager in two years and posters were kind of expected.

Suddenly Harry realised he could see this room, this flat, and Soraya as being part of his life until he graduated Hogwarts at least. The idea shook him first. Seriously, he’d only known about magic for a day and a half and had only met Soraya that morning. But something inside him said he’d found a kindred spirit in the Gringotts Warder, and this flat felt amazingly like a home…a safe home. He loved the room he’d been given at Gringotts and it would be handy for the days he spent at the bank, maybe for some sleepovers with Grinlast. But in this flat, here he could really belong.

Soraya, undergoing a similar level of amazement at how quickly she and Harry had meshed, found her eyes suspiciously moist at the news Harry wished to stay with her. And tears slid out from under lowered eyelids when she opened her arms, offering a hug, and Harry accepted with nary a flinch.

~0~0~

By the time their three o’clock meeting rolled around, Harry and Soraya had retrieved Harry’s belongings and owl, along with Lily’s trunk, from the bank and were well on their way to setting up Harry’s room. The only item missing was a bookcase for all his schoolbooks, which they found at a bric-a-brac shop back on Diagon Alley. Having spent years moving furniture around for his Aunt Petunia, to do the monthly deep cleaning she deemed necessary, Harry was deeply enamoured with shrinking and levitation spells, and couldn’t wait to learn to do them himself.

As they walked back to Gringotts, Soraya took a few minutes to explain the Trace to Harry. He now knew he’d be safe enough using his wand behind closed doors in magically congested areas like Diagon Alley, or inside the bank. But he was also fully aware that in completely Muggle areas, like the Dursleys, it was forbidden, so no hexing Dudley (sigh), at least before he turned seventeen.

Ragnok and Firelock appeared happy with Harry’s decision to stay with Soraya.

As Ragnok said, “Neither Dumbledore, Minister Fudge, nor the Wizengamot, would permit your magical guardianship to be held by the Guduriak. They consider us to be little better than creatures. But Ms Whittaker being a witch, that will be acceptable to probably all but Dumbledore, who will likely fight losing control over you.”

“But don’t worry Harry, we’ve spent several hours with our contract law specialists, going over guardianship laws, and creating an airtight document for Petunia and Vernon Dursley to sign. It has them assigning both Muggle and magical guardianship over, which having been in loco parentis for you for all these years, puts them in the position of being the only people legally able to do so. Despite what Dumbledore might think, by the way. We will have our solicitors and barristers ready to take this all the way to the Wizengamot court if needed, and we believe we have precedents to force Dumbledore to recuse himself as Chief Warlock for the case, due to a conflict of interest.” Firelock showed why he was such a valued assistant to his Buruzagi.

Ragnok concluded that part of the discussion, “Ms Whittaker and one of our wizard solicitors will be visiting the Dursleys in the morning. Seeing as it’s Saturday, they should be home, but yes, a phone appointment has also been made. By ten o’clock tomorrow, Harry, you should be away from the Dursleys permanently. You’ll never have to see them again if you don’t wish to.”

Ragnok found himself suddenly with an armful of sobbing eleven-year-old boy, as years of stress, fear, pain and loneliness began to leach from Harry’s soul. Surprised initially (the Buruzagi didn’t commonly find himself hugged during the course of his business day), he just pulled the lad closer and let him cry.

After all, it was well-deserved and a long time coming, as was evidenced by the fact that Harry cried silently. Only children who feared the consequences of others hearing them cry, or knew that no comfort was coming, ever cried that way. It was something else to add to the list that he would lay at Dumbledore’s feet someday; more kindling he could use to start the fire that would burn the man and his reputation to the ground, where Ragnok fully intended to stomp on the ashes.

~0~0~

It took a little while, but Harry finally calmed, and the discussion turned to talks of what the next month would look like. Come Monday, Harry would be seeing the Healers, both for body and mind. He learned that Guduriak healing involved potions as opposed to the chemical medications in the Muggle world, similar to wizarding potions. However, ritual healing was more common amongst the Guduriak, having fallen by the wayside amongst wizardkind.

Mind Healing would include both ritual and potion healing as needed, with the added component of counselling services, similar to that used by Muggles. Interestingly enough, wizarding healing neglected the talk therapy side of healing, often to their detriment Soraya considered, having taken advantage of the services offered to Gringotts employees to deal with some of the effects of losing her parents in the previous war.

Harry was delighted to hear that a visit to an oculist was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. He was thrilled even more to hear that his sight may be able to be fully corrected with healing potions or spells. To be able to get rid of his ill-suited and half-destroyed glasses (courtesy of Dudley) sounded like a dream come true. He could even handle new glasses if his eyes couldn’t be fixed all the way, once he was told all the different spells that could be added to make glass-wearing so much easier. Unbreakable, unscratchable, self-repairing, anti-fog, and rain-repelling features would have been a boon growing up with his cousin.

When Firelock moved on to the next topic, which they’d jokingly labelled Magic School, Harry got all excited. He deflated a little when informed it would be for two to three hours most weekday mornings. He would mostly be learning about all the things wizarding children learned growing up, along with a good amount of information on the Guduriak. But he was nearly mollified when Firelock allowed that he’d also be taught many of the basic spells, usually household spells, that his year mates who were magically raised would know. And was happier still when Soraya reminded him, she’d help him practise at home.

But they also planned some fun stuff. Soraya would be working on her Warding assignments while Harry was in Magic School, but from there, they would be free to get involved with other activities that would help Harry prepare for Hogwarts and get some real-life experience in the wizarding world. When Harry confessed his discomfort over the attention he’d received with Hagrid the day before, Ragnok passed him a new wristwatch, with additional features.

This watch had two permanent Portkey functions, allowing him to travel to either Gringotts or Soraya’s flat as needed. The Apparition points for Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade in Scotland, along with the main shopping towns in Wales and Ireland had also been added, giving Harry a degree of independence in travelling.

But the key feature was a button on top of the watch. When pressed once, it would create what they explained was a glamour, which basically was a new face and body for Harry, with no visible scar. Pressing the button again removed the glamour. A second button on the bottom of the watch allowed for a backup identity and was recommended to be kept as a means of escape, if all hell broke loose. Harry looked a bit askance at that, wondering what could happen to necessitate such a feature, and was told “better to be safe than sorry”.

The weekends and evenings were left for Harry and Soraya to determine. Ragnok and Firelock hoped the Enklabe Elders would permit Harry to visit, particularly because Wildspur and Grinlast would drive them crazy if the Elders withheld permission.

Soraya also wanted to broaden Harry’s world a little, both Muggle and magical, and she’d been contemplating possibilities all day. Having parents who’d maintained links to the Muggle world, she happily existed in both, and so was able to compile a wish list that included shopping for Muggle clothes for casual wear at school and during the holidays, a trip to the seaside, a Muggle amusement park, a visit to the Welsh Green Dragon Reserve, sightseeing in London, and a tour of some of the more fun or important wizarding towns through Great Britain, perhaps even Ireland.

Hmm, she might have to talk to her bosses about consolidating Magic School a bit more. Soraya was determined to make sure Harry had a proper summer of fun, for the first time. It was well overdue. And if they couldn’t fit it all in by September 1st, well there was always next summer.

So she took Firelock aside, while Harry and Ragnok were having fun trying to teach Harry a few more phrases in Gudurian. Having listened to her plans, Firelock agreed that three hours of study a day, perhaps four days a week, would work, if Soraya was willing to supplement Harry’s training by answering questions and working on the boy’s skill with spells out of hours. Soraya readily agreed.

A few minutes later, Ragnok and Harry were done, and the duo headed to their flat (Harry was thrilled to be added to that ‘their’). They picked up kebabs on the way home and spent a lazy evening in the flat, getting to know each other better, with Soraya sharing stories of Harry’s mum and dad through their Hogwarts years. It was a very tired but elated Harry who collapsed into his new bed that night, with a contented sense of home to infuse his dreams.

~0~0~

The month of August turned out to be the best time Harry’d had in his entire life. The high point was Soraya returning to the flat from the Dursleys, waving the permanent guardianship papers. Come Monday, they’d be filed with the Muggle authorities, though Ragnok was holding off sending them through to the Ministry to avoid any interference with the rest of Harry’s summer.

They’d celebrated with fish and chips at the closest pub and a visit to the oculist. Harry had been thrilled to learn that his vision could be mostly corrected with a potion, followed by spell work that would be reapplied each year, to adapt as he grew. He would be re-checked at the end of each school term for the first year, to ensure his eyes were adapting well to the corrections made. The only glasses Harry left with were a pair of sunglasses, spelled to repel smudges and weather when he continued to have some sensitivity to bright outdoor light. Harry, needless to say, was totally thrilled with everything that had gone on that day, and after a quiet dinner with Soraya, back at the flat, retired to bed early. He’d had an exciting two days and more was to come.

~0~0~

Windspur had managed to receive approval for Harry and Soraya to visit the Enklabe, so Firelock helped them to celebrate all the good news on Sunday, with an introduction to his wife Ringstar, a tour of the enchanted underground space, and a picnic which Grinlast managed to invite himself too as well.

Harry and his new guardian found the Enklabe to be completely entrancing. It was entered via a cart ride, similar to visiting the vaults, except in this case, it was like vertical space had been folded to allow them to get underneath the deepest vaults into an entire subterranean world unlike anything Soraya or Harry could have ever imagined.

The cart arrived at what resembled a short train platform, surrounded by walls that glittered with quartz crystals and semi-precious metals. The effect was rather like being able to get close to a starlit night sky. A wide hallway led out from the other end of the platform and became increasingly bright as they walked. Within a minute, it opened up dramatically to a panoramic vista that had to be seen to be believed. Firelock let his new friends just stand and gaze for a while, knowing how dramatic the impact could be.

In front of them, a cobbled road stretched as far as the eye could see. The sky overhead, despite being deep underground, was a bright azure blue, dotted here and there with high-piled fluffy clouds. A light breeze blew, keeping the temperature pleasant, and the scents of salt, pine and flowers wafted in on a brief gust of wind.

On the left-hand side was a range of Alps, snow-covered despite the warm August temperatures at the Enklabe entrance. Small chalets were dotted around on the slopes, some gathered into little villages, where it seemed some Guduriak felt the urge to live more socially. A quick-moving object caught Harry’s eye and he laughed when he realised it was a Guduriak child shooting down an icy slope on a sled.

In the distance, beyond the mountain slopes, Harry spotted a second road, running perpendicular to the main artery. When he looked closer, he realised it wasn’t only a means of transportation, but a seasonal divider. In the further quadrant on the left, the Alps became rolling hills, bearing an elaborate tapestry of spring blooms. The towns were a little larger here, the weather more conducive to year-round living, he supposed. He also spotted grazing cattle and sheep and early-season crops on what appeared to be small farm lots. The dry stone walls dividing the paddocks added to the rich tapestry texture of the spring region.

Following along, he turned his attention to the far quarter on the right side of the main road. This was obviously dedicated to summer. An enormous body of water, perhaps even an ocean, formed its farthest border with no land visible beyond the waters. Along the water’s edge, Harry could discern beaches and beachside towns, and a collection of buildings most easily called a city, located at the crossroads.

The city contained no buildings over a few storeys and appeared to be built around a large market square. It was clearly the administrative centre for the Enklabe, and the more ceremonial buildings appeared simply built, though the aesthetic was not at all jarring to the more pastoral surroundings outside of the city. In fact, there were still more farms located here in this quadrant, seemingly dedicated to grape vines, fruits, vegetables and grains.

The final region, closest to the group, on their right, was clearly devoted to autumn. Brightly coloured woodlands full of trees with leaves of burnished gold, fiery orange, florid red, and even a few hints of deep purple, covered most of the land. A number of small villages were dotted in clearings, some of the homes having enough land to keep a few chickens, perhaps a pig or a goat. Several tracts were dedicated to what appeared to be a managed forest for timber, though Harry suspected magic must be involved for such a small area to meet the entire Enklabe’s timber needs.

Harry then swept his eyes across the panorama once more, something catching his attention, but he was unable to put his finger on it. And then he realised, no matter the distance, he could see everything clearly in each seasonal province as if it was no further away than across a street.

Firelock had been waiting for the shoe to drop; it was the most enjoyable part of introducing newcomers to the Enklabe.

“Yes Harry, there really is no distance here in our world. While you can walk, typically we travel with intent only, moving easily from home to the towns. From the seaside to the snow. The roads are there more for a separation of districts, and on the few rare occasions, we need to move something large by land. They also act as conduits to other Guduriak communities.”

Firelock explained further, “Walk straight ahead for fifteen minutes from the crossroads and you’ll reach the first Enklabe, outside of Bilbao in Spain. Go to the right, and you’ll find yourself outside of Kyoto in Japan; the left-hand side takes you just south of Philadelphia, in America. Each of our communities is cross-linked, and you can hop oceans and continents, from Enklabe to Enklabe, to reach your eventual destination.”

Standing beside Firelock, Soraya, who knew only that the Guduriak had their unique means of travel, mouthed a silent “Wow”. Harry let the same wow out at a much louder pitch.

Taking Harry and Soraya’s hands, Firelock intent-travelled them to the summer home he shared with his wife Ringstar. The couple had no children of their own, so had been able to indulge themselves with homes in each quadrant. They had a chalet in the mountains in Negua (Winter), the main family home in the town of Loraldia in Udaberria (Spring), a small farm run by a cousin in Udazkena (Autumn), along with the beach house outside Azurrez in Udara (Summer).

Ringstar greeted them at the garden gate of their beach house, eager to meet the young man who’d made such an impression on Ragnok and Wildspur that they’d pushed through permission for Harry Potter and his guardian to visit with the Elder Council, known as the Zaharren Kontseilua.

Thankfully Firelock had warned her of the signs of neglect on the boy, although the happy face that turned to her in greeting, and the gentle shake of the hands, suggested that Harry was already on a path to leave the privations of his childhood behind. After a brief greeting to Soraya, she escorted their guests on a tour of the garden.

Ringstar and Harry hit it off immediately over their shared gardening interests. He could honestly say, of all the chores he’d ever been forced into at the Dursleys, gardening was his one favourite. It gave him time outside of not only his closet but the house itself. And making his Aunt look good to the neighbours, by having immaculate flower beds and lawns, sometimes translated into a decent meal.

So while Harry’s knowledge was limited to the Surrey climate, he was eager to learn about the new plants, some magical, others Muggle, many from Basque Spain, thriving in the almost perennially sunny clime. It took an hour to exhaust the garden talk between the two avid horticulturalists.

Meanwhile, Firelock and Soraya spent the time discussing their safety concerns once Harry went to Hogwarts and would be under Dumbledore’s thumb. They didn’t decide on any particular solutions; those would have to be pursued further with Ragnok’s input. Still, it was pleasant to sit out on a deck, overlooking the garden and the beach that lay beyond, while sipping cool lemonade and putting the world to rights.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed the al fresco lunch that followed. Most of the items were Basque in origin; historically the Muggle, wizarding, and Guduriak peoples coexisted there for much longer than elsewhere in Europe. The braised lamb shanks in a rich sauce with roasted vegetables were unlike anything he’d had before. The Carolina de Bilbao for dessert was a confectionery delight of a puff pastry cup, topped with a piped meringue cone and drizzled with chocolate. It was a close-run thing in the boy’s mind, but Harry thought it was possibly even better than the cannoli he’d fallen in love with two days before.

Firelock suggested a stroll along the beach after lunch, mostly to avoid nodding off in a lounge chair with a full stomach. They exited the garden via the gate at the bottom, to step straight out into low sand dunes, with a beach and sea just metres ahead. Harry couldn’t resist. He kicked off his cousin’s old trainers (reminding Soraya and Firelock that a Muggle shopping trip was soon needed) and dashed towards the water.

Harry ran in, to knee depth and let his child out in full. He splashed and kicked the water with his feet, bent down and swept his hands to create arcing swathes of salty water, and placed chase-me games with his feet and the tide, at the water’s edge. It was pure joy, in the form of one undersized boy, and those close by on the beach couldn’t resist smiling as well, so infectious was the feeling.

After Harry had exhausted his play options in the shallow depths, he ran back to his friends, who’d meandered closer to the water’s edge.

“Oh, I wish I knew how to swim. The water is the exactly right sort of cool you want in this weather. It would be so much fun to go deeper.”

Soraya shyly commented that she’d had lots of swimming lessons as a kid and had sometimes joined a Muggle swim team during the summers. She thought she’d be up to getting Harry comfortable with the basics. Harry accepted with alacrity and glee. Soraya transfigured Harry’s shorts into swim trunks, then conjured a bathing suit of her own, and the pair headed into the water.

Ringstar wanted to support Harry and Soraya in the learning process, so she dashed back to the house for towels, and a beach blanket to sit on as well as cool drinks. The Guduriak couple relaxed down onto the sand to watch Harry’s first swimming lesson.

Harry picked up on the doggy paddle very quickly and transitioned into the breaststroke with not too much difficulty. Being a stroke that was good for long distances, and for coping with ocean waves, they focused on that for the first lesson. An hour later, a reasonably competent Harry emerged from the water, flopped down on the blanket next to Ringstar, and announced, “I’m exhausted…and that was brilliant!”

Ringstar handed Harry a towel, let him dry off and then handed him a cold drink and offered a platter of various cheeses, preserves and flatbread, inviting him to tear off pieces of flatbread and add toppings as he liked. Soon replenished, he found the others working through small platters of their own and sat back to enjoy more of the sun and the good company.

But all wonderful days must end, and by seven o’clock, Harry was fading fast. Given Firelock and Ringstar tended to follow the Basque tradition of not eating dinner until much later, Harry and Soraya headed back to the bank (Firelock’s assisting with the intent-travel and the cart ride), then on to their flat. They enjoyed a light supper before Harry crashed early again, dead to the world by about 8:30 pm.

 

Chapter 4

Monday morning arrived with hot, muggy temperatures, and both Harry and Soraya were happy to enter the much more agreeable environs of the bank. After such an enjoyable weekend, Harry wasn’t thrilled he was going to be handed over to the tender mercies of the Healers, but he’d allowed Soraya to talk him into it, without too much difficulty.

Both Ragnok and Firelock stopped by Harry’s room on their way to their offices, to wish him well with his appointments. Soraya had gone to her office to pick up some paperwork to occupy her time while Harry was being evaluated. She could have worked from there and awaited a message from the Healers but felt more comfortable with being close at hand. Harry was sitting in the armchair, reading through a book of magical baby names that he’d purchased Saturday, after visiting the oculist (along with quite a few other books that Hagrid had denied him). Now he was determined to find just the right name for the snowy owl perched on his shoulder, and futilely trying to groom his hair into some semblance of order.

“How about Calypso, girl? That’s a pretty name.” A sharper nip at his hair (finding his scalp below, unfortunately) let Harry know what she thought of the name.

“Hmm, there’s Titania; she was said to be Queen of the fairies. No?” Harry could see by the stare the owl gave him that she wouldn’t accept that option.

“Oooh, what about Arwen? She’s another queen. Of elves and men apparently, comes from a book written by a wizard that somehow became a huge hit with Muggles.” Another peck.

“Sheesh, you’re awfully particular, girl. I’ve got a battle on my hands when it comes to giving you a name. Oh…that’s an idea.” The owl shot him a quizzical look, as Harry turned to the front of the book, touched his wand to a rune that had the book resort names by meaning, and paged through to where he could find ‘battle’.

“Oh, I think you’ll like this one. It means war and battle, fight and duel. Now some might think that’s too heavy a name for such a pretty girl as you, but I think it suits your personality.” She preened at the compliments.

“So how does Hedwig sound, girl? Think it suits you?”

Letting off an excited ‘hoo-uh’ sound in reply, the newly titled Hedwig nuzzled Harry’s head with clear affection and acceptance of her very special name.

“Then Hedwig it is. Maybe we can get a sign made for your cage and perch. So everyone knows who my special girl is.” Hedwig flew several exultant laps of the room in celebration before returning to Harry’s shoulder to accept the owl treat he held, which was as it should be. After all, an owl with such a regal name deserved to be waited on and spoiled.

Harry tried to suppress his giggles at her antics, knowing she’d be mortified to be laughed at. Soraya, who’d slipped into the room as Harry had come up with the final name, had no such compunction and laughed unreservedly. Hedwig simply ignored her and continued to delicately nibble at her treat.

As Soraya’s chuckles finally subsided, there was a knock on the door and Ringstar poked her head in.

“Are you ready Harry? The Healers are all set up and are looking forward to meeting you,” Ringstar announced.

“I didn’t know you were a Healer, Ringstar. You didn’t say anything yesterday.” Harry seemed a little put out at the omission.

“I’m a Mind Healer, lad. I have always tried to separate work from my home life…makes for more restful times when I’m done with the day. But also, yesterday was a day for fun, good food and good company, and learning to swim. Telling you more could have ruined the day. And it was too wonderful a day to be upset with serious matters.” Ringstar had been watching Harry’s face as they talked, watching it shift from aggravation to acceptance. Once she knew he was fully settled, she shepherded him into the hallway and in the direction of the Healers’ treatment area.

~0~0~

Six hours later, Harry felt like he’d been on a rollercoaster of highs and lows, but he couldn’t argue with the end result, as he was sent to rest on the day bed in his room at the bank.

The morning had started with an elderly Guduriak woman standing over him, as he lay on a low cot, incanting diagnostic spells of increasing depth and complexity. A parchment and quill on the side table grew to an almost unprecedented length as it detailed the findings, causing the dour Swifthorn to become increasingly taciturn. Ringstar and Soraya stayed off to the side, to ensure no stray magic interfered with the scans.

Fully thirty minutes later, Swifthorn stepped back, leaning against the table, seemingly exhausted from her efforts. However, she just took a few moments to regroup, before bringing them all over to a corner of the room, where low couches and chairs could be found. Perched in a circle, Harry, Soraya and Ringstar awaited the results anxiously.

“Mr Potter, your scans show some serious anomalies, and I wish to start with the easiest ones first to get them out of the way. It appears that you have been restricted from eating for much of your childhood, am I correct? And you also have spent considerable periods locked away from the sun. Would that also be true?”

Harry replied shyly, “My aunt and uncle often fed me only once or twice a day, and never a full meal. Though I’d be required to stand by as they ate, in case they might need anything.” The disdain was evident in the tone of Harry’s voice.

“And then, until my first Hogwarts letter arrived, I was locked into the cupboard under the stairs every night to sleep, but also frequently as punishment (usually for something Dudley had done), and other times, if they simply didn’t want to see or deal with me anymore.”

Swifthorn nodded in understanding. “That explains the signs of malnourishment I picked up on the scans. Your height has been stunted, along with your bone density, and your organ development is well below the norms for your age. Thankfully this is reversible with a course of potions I will put you on, though you must be certain to stick to the regimen exactly, for it to be a complete success.” Harry nodded, promising compliance.

“So, on to childhood illnesses, both Muggle and wizarding. Do you remember receiving any vaccinations at all? Either when visiting a doctor or getting them done at school?”

Swifthorn would be shocked if the Muggles had managed either and just sniffed when Harry confirmed her suspicions. She was unsurprised when Harry reported he’d been locked in a closet to deal with the ravages of chicken pox and measles by himself, both before the age of seven. Of course, he’d never had any vaccinations in the wizarding world, unless they’d been done before his parents died.

“So the next section is childhood injuries. I am going to need you to be very honest with me here because it will help build our case to keep Dumbledore’s hands off your guardianship orders. The fact he placed you with the Dursleys, and I’m guessing never checked on you, supports our case against him. So did he check up on you at all?”

“Not once that I’m aware of. I have no clue what he looks like. He could walk up to me right now and he’d just be another stranger,” Harry replied.

Trying, and failing, to hide a grin, Soraya piped up, “Oh you’d know him, Harry. He’s got the fashion sense of a colour-blind toddler. If the robes are garish and clash, and he has a white beard down to his knees, with half-moon glasses that make his eyes look like they’re twinkling, that’s Albus Dumbledore.” Ringstar laughed at Soraya’s words; in all, it was a pretty accurate description.

“I’ll keep an eye out. It sounds…..interesting.” Harry was at a loss to say much more after that description.

Swifthorn cleared her throat to redirect their attention. “Very well then, I have a list of injuries here, some healed fully, others in which your magic was only partly able to manage to repair. I’d like to go over the list and have you explain how they occurred. Let’s start with the most recent and work our way back. So, a hairline fracture of your left wrist, sometime back in late March?”

“Dudley and his mates were ‘Harry Hunting’ as they called their game. They caught me in the school playground, got me on the ground and kicked me about. One of them caught my wrist when I was protecting my head with my arms.” Harry was sadly all too matter-of-fact in his response, to Ringstar’s mind.

“The concussion in January?”

“Harry Hunting”

“The cracked ribs in November last year….

The torn right ankle ligaments…

The left shoulder sprain…

The right hand fracture…

The left kneecap fracture…”

All were Harry Hunting injuries in the last three years.

“The skull fracture and severe concussion when you were seven?”

“My Aunt hit me in the head with a frying pan, when I dropped a loaf of bread as I pulled it out from the oven.”

“The scars from being hit with a belt on your back aged five?”

“My uncle. He only did it once because Aunt Petunia had to stop him from beating me to death. There would have been too many questions asked if he had because I’d started school. She never let him touch me again. He found other ways to be cruel though.”

“The near-drowning at age four?”

“I barely remember that. Aunt Petunia dumped me in the tub and went somewhere else in the house. It seems that I slipped and went under, and couldn’t get myself back up. I heard her tell Aunt Marge once that I was unconscious and blue when she found me. But that’s the earliest thing I remember. If there’s more before that, I really don’t want to know. I’d rather we look at what still needs to be fixed and move on.”

Soraya shared a look with Ringstar. They’d known it was bad, but there were so many injuries, and Harry was so matter-of-fact about them, almost emotionless even. Ringstar whispered to the younger witch, “We’ll talk more about this after, but yes, Harry needs Mind Healing.”

“Well then Harry,” Swifthorn moved onto what needed to be done, “We’ll have to remove and regrow the bones in your right hand, which will improve your grip strength and dexterity. The kneecap will need to be regrown as well. The Skele-gro potion we use for that will also shore up the other fracture sites your magic did quite a good job on. I’ll also repair the ligaments in your ankle. It’s usually done overnight so you can sleep through the process, which can be rather painful. Pain potions don’t work in this case, fortunately sleeping draughts do.”

Harry thought about what Swifthorn had said. “It sounds like a good plan. I’ll be glad to sleep through all of that. I’m guessing I start all the other potions after we’ve fixed this?”

“You would be correct, young wizard. Now there is one more piece that needs addressing, and for this, we must invite Ragnok and Firelock into the discussion. Ms Whittaker, if you would fetch them, please? Ringstar, I would like a word in private if I may?”

The Guduriak Healers removed themselves to the far corner of the room for a discussion, leaving Harry sitting on his couch, worrying alone. But he wasn’t that way for long, as Soraya and her bosses returned in less than five minutes. They pulled several more chairs in close and waited for the conversation to begin, as Swifthorn and Ringstar re-joined the group.

Assured of her audience’s attention, Swifthorn shattered the relative calm with the pronouncement, “Voldemort has made one or more Horcruxes.”

Harry began to ask what a Horcrux was, but Soraya whispered, “I’ll tell you more later, let’s just listen for now,” and grasped Harry’s hand.

“Ondo joder!” Ragnok exclaimed. (Oh fuck!)

“The scar, Swifthorn?” Firelock asked, receiving a nod of affirmation. “Puta-seme!” (Son of a bitch!)

“I suspect there are at least three to seven Horcruxes in total, based on the size of the fragment in young Harry’s scar. I’d personally lean towards seven, given the number’s magical significance, but we’ll need to bring the Curse-Breakers in to validate my findings…and help us remove it. But I was able to confirm it is confined to the boy’s scar and is not leeching his energy or magic as yet, though it probably would begin to do so in the next year or so.”

Firelock dashed out of the room after hearing the news, to send a message for a Senior Curse-Breaker to join them. He returned in time to hear the news that, while performing the ritual, the accidental magic block placed on Harry by his parents at four months old would need to be removed. It was about three or four years overdue being extracted from Harry’s magical core, and would stunt the development of his core, and subsequent power, if not taken off before starting at Hogwarts.

Giles Huntley, a wizard from Toronto, Canada, and Darksteel, the most experienced Guduriak Curse-Breaker arrived halfway through the discussion. After receiving Firelock’s message, the partners had looked at each other and realised the most effective ritual would pull on both magical traditions, and so they’d both responded to the summons.

The group found themselves ignoring the fact it was nearly lunchtime; no one had the stomach for the midday meal. And in Harry’s case, it was contraindicated as the risk of vomiting and aspiration during the procedure was too great. While the assembled adults worked out the details of the ritual (removing a Horcrux from a living creature wasn’t a common occurrence, but there were well-established protocols), Harry was sent to his rooms for a shower and to dress in the simple ritual robes and leather sandals that were required. Soraya followed for moral support.

Harry and Soraya returned thirty minutes later, with the witch trying to calm her increasingly anxious young ward. Ringstar responded immediately, leading Harry to a chair and handing him a Calming Draught, one that wouldn’t interfere with the ritual, and it helped immensely. The trio talked quietly, discussing the Horcrux, as the rest of the group completed laying out the ritual circle, drawing the runes and purifying the space. Forty minutes worth of work later, and they were ready to begin.

Thankfully Harry didn’t need to be awake and was given a strong sleeping draught, falling immediately to sleep, thus missing the pair of Healers and Curse-Breakers entering into battle with the Horcrux.

In the end, it was a brief battle, with the shade of Voldemort being driven out in under ten minutes, once the ritual was at its peak. The shade was trapped into an unbreakable diamond ball with a hollow core for the Horcrux to be captured in. It was then placed in a lead-lined box and taken back to the Curse-Breaking Department for further investigation; they were all hoping to develop some type of direction-finding process to locate the other fragments using the Horcrux, as it was the final fractured piece created before Voldemort was totally disembodied.

Harry was awoken by a potion that was dripped into his mouth. He felt like he’d been run over by a herd of elephants, but also felt strangely lighter. The low low-grade headache he’d stopped paying attention to years ago was gone and was felt more in its absence than he’d ever noticed in its presence. And the news that he was Horcrux-free lifted his spirits even more. Firelock carried him to his rooms, Harry not even caring others might think he was a baby, and the eleven-year-old sunk into a deep sleep again, as the Guduriak and the witch sat vigil by his side.

A light meal when Harry woke, a Pepper-up potion, and a visit from Grinlast, elevated Harry’s spirits, and by the time he was ready to leave Gringotts, he was up for a short stroll along Diagon Alley and dinner at one of the cafés on Gastronomic Alley. It didn’t hurt that he did this with relative anonymity; he’d lost the glasses that made him so resemble his father when he’d been out before, and now the Horcrux was gone, his scar had paled to an almost imperceptible jagged line on his forehead. After being inundated with a horde of fans when he’d been in the Alley with Hagrid, Harry was relishing being just another boy once more.

~0~0~

Tuesday found Harry and Soraya indulging in a lazy day. After a fry-up for breakfast, they spent time just chatting and getting to know each other better. In a way, it was weird to realise they’d met less than a week ago, and now Soraya was Harry’s guardian, but they had much in common that had allowed them to form bonds quicker than most. The events of the day before had also served to deepen the bond.

After a ploughman’s lunch at the ‘Leprechaun and Grim’ pub further down the Alley, the pair laughed and joked their way back to the flat. They knew they’d be stuck at home that evening, as one of the Healers would be coming by to administer the Skele-gro potion and finish up any residual soft tissue healing that was needed overnight. Having had his fill of the Healer chambers the day before, Harry had readily accepted the very generous offer of a Healer to Floo over, to provide the care he needed.

While waiting for the Healer to arrive, Soraya had set up for Harry to witness quite a treat. Her old Gryffindor House-mate and best friend, Chester (Ches) Leggett, had offered to create a long balcony across the back of the flat, adding French doors to each bedroom, and making it all completely invisible to anyone who viewed it from outside the building by the time he was done. To the neighbours, people in the back alley below, or even Muggles in nearby tall buildings, if they somehow penetrated the magical district’s strong invisibility wards, the back of the flat would maintain the same appearance it had had all along.

Harry was entranced by the complex wand work, spell creation and casting, and integrated rituals that such a magical expansion required. It didn’t hurt that Ches was willing to be interrupted every step of the way, to explain how everything worked, or what the different spell incantations meant.

By the time Ches was done, Harry was nearly certain that he wanted to become a Spell-Crafter when he left Hogwarts, so enamoured was he with the whole process. In fact, he continued to ply Ches with questions all through the tea and scones Soraya brought out for afternoon tea. He’d nearly prevailed on Ches to stay for dinner, so he could indulge his rabid curiosity further before Soraya reminded him that the Healer would be arriving shortly.

“But don’t worry Harry, we’ll have Ches over again before you leave for Hogwarts, so you can drive him crazy then,” Soraya gently teased.

“Ahh, leave the poor lad alone, girl. He’s got a bright mind, and picked up the charms work quickly. More quickly than a certain someone I could mention.” It was Soraya’s turn to be teased it seemed.

“So are you guys, like, boyfriend/girlfriends? Oh, I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.” Harry thought frantically then came up with a solution for his perceived impertinence. “Please, I’ll do all the cooking and housework for a week if you forgive me.”

Soraya reassured Harry that he hadn’t done wrong, even if he was a little less tactful than most adults would be.

But underneath she thought to herself, ‘Most of the time he has almost an iron control of all the goofy and stupid things pre-teens do. But it still slips through on occasion. And while it’s good to see normal behaviour for his age, it also only serves to remind us of how much the abuse has suppressed who Harry would have been otherwise, if he’d grown up with love and security.’

Soraya shared a glance with Ches, who’d experienced some neglect of his own as a child. They both saw the signs, and Soraya knew Ches would want to talk it out more. But he would be content to wait for an appropriate moment.

Ches then addressed Harry. “Soraya and I have been best mates since we stood side by side, waiting to be Sorted in our first year at Hogwarts. It would definitely be weird to kiss my best mate!” he finished with a grin.

As the Spell-Crafter finished speaking, the fireplace flared green flames, and then Ringstar’s head appeared. Harry jumped at first, thinking she’d get burned, but he soon relaxed when Soraya acted as if it was the equivalent of Muggle phone calls.

“Harry and Soraya, are you ready for me to come through? I have your potions, and thought we could have a chat while I healed the other soft tissue areas.” Soraya gave permission for the Guduriak Healer to Floo over from the bank, then turned to see Ches saying his farewells. After shaking Harry’s hand and giving Soraya a brief hug, he departed, heading down the steps to Gastronomic Alley, and disappeared into the weekday crowds.

“I’m a bit surprised to see you, Ringstar. I thought one of the regular Healers would be here this evening,” commented Soraya.

Ringstar chuckled and replied, “I pulled rank. Sometimes being the wife of the Buruzagi’s Assistant has its benefits. Most of the time, it’s a major pain in the ipurdia! I wanted to see how our favourite patient was doing today. And it never hurts to go back over basic skills, keep them fresh. Firelock is a menace; always has to go icefall climbing when we go to our chalet. He falls almost often as he climbs,” she finished conspiratorially.

Harry and Soraya both bit back giggles at the thought of Firelock sliding backwards down an icy slope on a regular basis.

“So how are you feeling today, Harry?” Ringstar asked as they settled side by side on the couch, while Soraya made more tea. “That was a fairly intense Healing you went through yesterday, particularly with the soul shard.”

“Kinda better than I expected really. I was a bit stiff and sore this morning, but we’ve taken it easy today, so I’m moving much better now. We went out for lunch and that bit of a walk helped as well, I think.” Harry settled comfortably back into the corner of the couch.

“And how are you doing with all the information Swifthorn found out, about your time with your relatives? You’ve sustained a lot of injuries over the years, not all of them physical. Beyond the impacts on your body and your health, you’ve not been allowed to make social connections with friends or adults, and I’d wager that expressing how you felt about any of it was a very dangerous thing to do around the Dursleys.” While being far from tactless, Ringstar had found that being gently direct helped her gauge just how far the child was used to shoving the abuse down. She got her answer a second later.

Harry’s smile disappeared and his affect flattened to the point you’d think you were talking to a wall.

“I’m just glad to be away from them permanently and to never have to see them again. I’ll be fine now that they’re out of my life.”

And there was Ringstar’s answer. Harry had shoved it all down deep. He wouldn’t be one to talk about it, except as if it had almost happened to someone else, and she’d bet good money on the strain manifesting as anxiety, nightmares and being over-eager to please and do everything perfectly.

“I am sure you are. They seem the most repellent sort of people, it’s a shame everyone can’t see it. If I had to guess….hmm, they’re the sort that always puts on a show for others, but then they gossip and put everyone else down. I’d bet they talked about everyone in the neighbourhood and at the school into believing that they and their son are perfect, and you were the troublemaker, right? It’s all about keeping up appearances for them!”

Harry just stared for a moment, “How could you know that? Wait, you can’t read my mind can you?” His breath came in shorter, anxious pants.

Ringstar leaned over and rested her hand on his, while Soraya perched on the couch arm beside him, offering support.

“No mind reading required Harry. It’s just that these are the qualities we see in narcissistic, self-involved people, particularly ones that tend to be intolerant of any form of difference. I bet they didn’t like people of other skin colours, or follow a different religion, or came from anywhere but England either? These types of people very easily become bullies and abusers sadly, and most of them are very good at manipulating others to get their way. I’m guessing somewhere along the way, you told a teacher a bit about what your home life was like, and your Aunt and Uncle came in and turned it all around to being something that was your fault?”

Ringstar was treading very carefully with this, trying to gently get Harry to open up, while teaching him he wasn’t the only child to have had ‘Dursleys’ in his life.

“I’m still not sure you’re a mind reader,” Harry replied with a bit of a side-long look.

“But yeah, Mrs Ferguson in grade two, she asked why I was so much smaller and skinnier than Dudley, and if I was being fed enough at home. I told her I only got the scraps mostly, and I was made to sleep in a cupboard, and how Dudley beat me up. She called Aunt Petunia in, who told her I was so small because my parents starved me before they died, and how I was an evil kid, who made up stories and just caused trouble. Aunt Petunia somehow made my teacher believe her, and she wouldn’t look at or talk to me hardly at all after that. And Dudley beat up on me more, because he knew he’d get away with it.”

Suddenly, Harry covered his mouth with his hands. Oh, he knew better than to say such things out loud; he’d be in so much trouble if the Dursleys found out. He burrowed into the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible, cowering and afraid of a raised hand. In no time at all, he was hyperventilating, gasping for a proper breath, when Ringstar intervened by pressing a Calming Draught into his hand, helping him to swallow it down, and coaching him into taking measured breaths.

“It’s alright Harry, you’re safe here. You’re allowed to speak about whatever you wish. The Dursleys are gone from your life. You never have to see them again, remember?”

Ringstar pitched her voice low and soothing, with a smooth, regular cadence, which helped Harry to push the anxiety back further. Then she sat back and allowed him the independence to bring himself the rest of the way back, to the here and now, under his own steam, knowing he’d need these skills when he was alone at Hogwarts.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, the messy-haired boy calmed the rest of the way down, looked around, then reddened as he realised how he’d panicked.

Showing her decades of skill, Ringstar intervened. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed, Harry. Did you ever read about prisoners of war in World War Two at school?” Harry nodded.

“You might remember that they all said they had to learn to act in ways that wouldn’t get them into trouble. How they’d often have to go along with stupid orders and manage in terrible conditions, to be able to survive. Because there was no way to escape if you weren’t alive any more. No chance to get back to a normal and free life otherwise.”

Another nod and Harry relaxed a little out of the tight sofa corner.

“What you went through with the Dursleys was really not that much different. You stayed strong, even if you had to hide most of yourself away. You did what you had to, to be able to escape. And now you’re making a new life, creating your own circle of friends and family, and look how far you’ve come…in barely a week. You’re an incredibly strong lad, who’s made it out of a terrible situation. Yes, you have some healing to do, and we’ll be meeting for a while to come, but you are a survivor, Harry. And one day, if you need them again, all those skills you developed will be there to help you through other tough situations. Does that make any sense?”

Pondering for a minute, Harry responded, “I guess. Though I didn’t escape, Hagrid took me away.”

“Ahh, but you were very smart when you met that husband of mine. You worked out a way to get around Hagrid keeping a tight watch on you and got the help you needed. You took advantage of an opportunity and made the most of it. Very ingenious of you, my lad.”

Harry reddened again, this time from the compliment, and finally relaxed his guard, accepting a glass of orange juice and a scone from Soraya, who rested her arm around his shoulders, immensely proud of the boy.

Ringstar and Soraya let Harry process this new worldview, talking softly about news at the bank, Soraya’s next Warding project, and where they’d like to go next time, they went to the Enklabe. Harry had settled enough by that point to put in a vote for the snowy mountains; he’d never tried sledding or skating before. Ringstar promised they’d make the trip before Harry left for school, and they all chatted congenially until it was time for dinner.

It turned out that Ringstar had never had pizza either, so Soraya fire-called in an order, insisting they had to try a ham and pineapple pizza, along with the more usual supreme. Ringstar turned out to be a fan of the Hawaiian pizza as it was called, while Harry decided he liked it okay, but preferred the supreme.

By the time the leftovers were cleared to the cool-box, Harry was yawning and was shooed off for a quick shower and to get ready for bed. Once he was settled under the covers, Ringstar and Soraya entered the bedroom. Harry needed his right hand bones regrown (it was easier to do it all than bits), along with his left knee cap, and some ligaments and muscles repaired around his ankles.

Ringstar chanted the spells for the bone vanishing and soft tissue repair, then handed Harry a Stomach Soother potion, more as insurance than anything, followed by Skele-gro and Dreamless Sleep potions. He was almost instantly sleepy, though it didn’t stop him from smiling as Soraya and Ringstar fussed with tucking him in, nor did he object when they both pressed a kiss to his forehead as he drifted into sleep. His last thought was ‘It’s rather nice to be fussed overrrrr…’ before he was entirely dead to the world.

Back in the living room, the witch and the Healer discussed the events of the day. Ringstar wasn’t in the least surprised to hear that Harry had offered to punish himself for asking about Ches and Soraya’s friendship. He was deeply conditioned to believe he was always in the wrong and deserving of retribution. They talked about strategies Soraya might use to provide humane boundaries and discipline for those times in the future, that Harry would do something that warranted a response.

Ringstar also warned that Harry might act out and push those boundaries as he began to feel safer but struggled to trust that feeling. It was a productive conversation and after ten o’clock when they parted ways, having checked on Harry once more before Ringstar Floo’ed back to Gringotts. Soraya was almost as exhausted as Harry after it was all said and done and slept nearly as deeply that night.

~0~0~

After hearing from Ringstar about the amount of Healing facing Harry over the next months and years, Magic School was put on hold for the rest of the week, and Soraya was given leave to take Harry and have some fun.

And fun they had! Soraya and Harry shopped their way through Wednesday, with Harry being delighted to buy Muggle clothes that fit and were to his taste. By the end of the day, he had enough shoes, jeans, shorts, t-shirts, and jumpers, along with a couple of nicer outfits just in case of, to see him through to next summer. Though Soraya assured him they’d go shopping again at Christmas or Easter break if he outgrew anything.

They also loaded up on underwear, toiletries, notebooks, pens, and pencils to use when parchment and quill were too much of a hassle, and some basic artist supplies as well, when Harry shyly commented he’d always liked drawing at primary school. In the end, Harry was glad he had that three-compartmentt trunk, because there was no way he’d have fitted it all into the basic model he saw in Diagon Alley. And Soraya was happy to remind him that she would send anything they might have forgotten by owl if needed.

Thursday was a dream come true for Harry when Soraya announced over breakfast that they’d be going to Alton Towers amusement park that day. Side-along Apparating close by, just as the park was due to open, Harry went at full speed all day, marvelling also that, thanks to all the Healing, he could do so without pain. He gleefully rode every ride they could get on, to the point that even former Quidditch player Soraya had to beg off and watch from the ground towards the end. Stuffed full of junk food, they spent the late afternoon and evening cooling down in the water park. High on sugar and caffeine all day, along with all the excitement, Harry crashed as if he’d taken a Sleeping Draught the minute his head hit the pillow.

On Friday, Soraya introduced Harry to the fact that dragons were real, with a trip to the Welsh Green Dragon Reserve. Harry was speechless the first moment he spotted a real, live dragon; that was until he came across a group of them clustered together, looking for all the world like a group of women gossiping on the village green.

The dragons were making deep guttural susurrations, interrupted by occasional soft squealing sounds, making Harry pause, then relay the sounds back to the trio of green dragons. Soraya was about to congratulate him on imitating the dragon vocalisations so well, when all three heads turned, and the dragons moved in their direction towards the see-through warded barrier. From there, it looked for all the world as if Harry was having a conversation with the group of dragons, going back and forth for nearly ten minutes. In the end, the largest of the Welsh Greens reared up on her hind legs and made almost a braying sound. This brought several dragon keepers, along with the rest of the dragon thunder, pelting to where Harry and Soraya stood.

The first keeper to arrive was an older, grizzled wizard, bearing signs of burns and scars on his arms and legs from long years of exposure to the fierce but loyal creatures.

“I’ve heard that cry before, which one of you is the Speaker?” he asked abruptly.

Harry cowered a little, still uncomfortable with direct confrontation. The older man recognised the signs (though more typically he’d seen them in rescued dragons) and gentled his tone, leaning down to meet Harry’s height, then offering a hand to the boy.

“My name’s Garreth Lloyd, lad. And yours?”

“Um, Harry Potter sir,” was the tentative reply.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Harry. So you were the one who was able to make such fine dragon sounds, hey? They’re some of the best I’ve heard, and I’ve been running this place for a long time.”

Harry gave a quizzical look at the old wizard.

“I was just talking to them in English sir. No one ever told me they could speak back in English too. ‘Course, a week ago I thought dragons were a myth and didn’t know I was a wizard, so I probably missed that in school.”

“Oh, you’re definitely a Speaker, my boyo. That’s what Dragon Speak sounds like to all of us who have the talent.” Garreth was putting the name with the story he was hearing and knew there was much more to this child than he was seeing just now.

“You can speak to dragons too, sir? Really? How about you Soraya, can you do it as well?” Harry was excited. He’d had many unique experiences already since learning about magic, but this was one of the best yet.

“Nope, I can’t, sadly. And I’m a little envious of you two. You’ll just have to play translator for me instead, while I ask all the things I ever wanted to know about dragons.” Soraya instinctively knew not to make a huge fuss about her not being a Speaker, knowing Harry had spent ten years being called a freak and being punished for being different.

“Perhaps one in five thousand can speak to dragons, Harry, if that. Most of us can speak to snakes as well, because they’re closely related linguistically. We just tend to keep it a bit quiet, because if we told everybody, then we’d be doing nothing but asking dragons questions for every Tom, Dick or (begging your pardon) Harry. Why, we’d never get time to sit down to a meal or take a shower….or get anything else done at all! And all that eating and talking on the run gives me terrible heartburn.”

Garreth Lloyd had struck the perfect tone with his little speech, Soraya decided. He’d made Harry feel special without feeling weird and done it with humour. And with not a single mention of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry couldn’t resist giggling at the silliness of the older man while appreciating that he’d joined quite a select group of magical beings who could talk with dragons.

The rest of the day was spent with Garreth (as he insisted Harry and Soraya call him), getting a behind-the-scenes tour of the reserve, and meeting with dragons of all ages from the (relatively speaking) tiny hatchlings to the rambunctious adolescents, and spending a quiet half hour in the den of the dragon Elder, a wizened female named Ildryth, who shared stories from dragon history where they freely ruled the skies, and that she liked being scratched just so, right behind her eyebrow ridges. When Harry and Soraya left at sundown, having shared lunch and supper with Garreth and some of the other keepers, Harry felt he’d made a friend for life, both in Garreth and Ildryth. Not to mention, he’d been invited to write to Garreth and visit anytime he was out of school. Being barely into his second week in the magical world, Harry wondered how life could ever be better than this.

~0~0~

The pace slowed a little for the weekend. Harry and Soraya spent Saturday in the Enklabe, visiting Firelock and Ringstar at their winter chalet, Grinlast having already invited himself along. They spent the day flying down the hills sledding, falling on their backsides as Harry learnt to ice skate, and laughing when Firelock fulfilled Ringstar’s prediction that he’d fall (sliding almost gracefully down a smooth slope) when he tried icefall climbing once again. Fortunately, he did know his limits and kept to more gentle slopes than other more adventurous climbers, who often tackled frozen waterfalls. He didn’t even need Ringstar’s Healing services when he clambered his way back to the chalet, where they’d all been watching from the deck, wrapped in warm blankets by a fire pit and drinking hot cocoa. Ragnok dropped by for dessert after dinner, bragging about escaping from his wife and massive family, who’d been celebrating the youngest granddaughter’s first birthday since noon.

Their last day of freedom from Magic School was spent tidying up the flat, then heading out for yet another surprise. Soraya had hidden a couple of shrunken items in her pocket and had zipped her lip when Harry had tried to get her to say what they were. They’d then Floo’ed to somewhere called the Three Broomsticks. It turns out it was the village nearest Hogwarts, which could be seen in the distance.

But they weren’t there to visit the school, nor did Soraya want to spoil things for Harry by giving him too close a look just yet. They were there because Hogsmeade was the only town in the UK that was purely wizarding, which offered an extra freedom that she’d share after lunch. They wandered the village for a bit, ducking into Honeydukes to stock up on sweets, then ate at the Three Broomsticks.

As they left the pub, Ches Apparated in and joined them, puzzling Harry by having a broom laid across his shoulder. And then the penny dropped (or Knut depending on how you were raised). He recalled the brooms in the window of the Quidditch shop on Diagon Alley.

“We’re going flying? I’m really going to get on a broom and fly? Wicked!”

Soraya unshrunk the brooms from her pocket. She’d brought her trusty old Cleansweep that she’d used at school but had a surprise for Harry. It was a brand-new Nimbus 2000, the latest broom on the market.

“Harry, we know it was your birthday just a week or so ago, and only Hagrid had the chance to give you a present. So this is from Ches and me, Ragnok and Windspur, Grinlast, Firelock and Ringstar, even Swifthorn and Blacktor went in with us. So…happy eleventh birthday Harry!” She presented him with the broom.

Harry was speechless. He just hugged the broom to his chest and stared, eyes and heart too full to say anything. Long moments passed, before he exploded with, “Thank you both, thank you everyone. This is amazing. It’s only the second present I’ve ever been given…Oh wow…” Harry tapered off, having run out of words and breath. Then he rushed to Soraya, gave her a huge hug and repeated it with Ches, before standing there bursting with anticipation to give it a try.

They walked down the main street of the village to an open field, where kids had learned to fly brooms for centuries.

“Now this is a racing broom, Harry, so it’s pretty quick for a beginner. If you want to try on my old broom first, it’ll be a little less touchy and reactive, which might be easier for your first try,” suggested Soraya.

Harry saw the sense in that and passed his Nimbus over to Ches, with an admonition to keep it safe. Soraya showed how to call the broom into his hand, how to mount it, and where to place his hands, before detailing the basics of climbing, steering and returning to earth. She borrowed Ches’ broom and got Harry to hover at her side, before starting with slow loops, turning right then left, only a few feet off the ground.

Harry caught on quickly, and they were soon working on ascending and descending, making quicker turns, spiralling up and down, and a few other mid-level moves. Harry was a natural on a broom and was surprised when Hedwig showed up, egging him on to join her on a little more adventurous flight. Little Harry knew that Soraya had set it up with the owl, sending her out to Hogsmeade ahead of them that morning.

After about thirty minutes of practice, Harry switched over to his Nimbus, and Ches joined them in the air. They easily spent another thirty minutes building Harry’s skills more, getting him accustomed to the speed and manoeuvrability of the more technical broom. Hedwig was in her element, flying alongside her friend, and encouraging him to become a little more daring. Ches pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket, explaining it was often used to teach basic Quidditch skills, and they passed the ball back and forth, attempted intercepts and generally monkeyed around for a while longer.

Eventually, Soraya called them all back to the ground and sent Hedwig home. Harry didn’t want to quit but listened to reason when told that if they overdid, he’d be so sore he couldn’t move the next day. The trio headed back to the Three Broomsticks, downing steak and chips for supper, before Ches Apparated home, and Harry and Soraya Floo’ed back to the flat. It was yet another night that Harry crashed as soon as his head hit the pillow, but not quite so quickly as to miss being tucked in and kissed on the forehead

~0~0~

The remainder of August passed swiftly. Harry spent his weekday mornings in Magic School with Ragnok, Firelock, and other Guduriak and wizarding employees of Gringotts willing to share their expertise. He learnt a great deal about the history of wizardkind in Britain and around the world, as well as the history of the Guduriak. They even used the crossroads in the Enklabe to visit magical Toronto one day, staying overnight and exploring the Muggle part of the city the next day.

Classes also included information on how the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot worked (or didn’t, depending on your perspective). The history of Hogwarts, the Founders and the historical and current politics and rivalries between the Houses were also covered. Even the basic rules of Quidditch were included.

The tougher classes covered the more recent history of the wars with Grindelwald and Voldemort, and they visited Godric’s Hollow, and Lily and James’s graves the afternoon of that lesson. Soraya left Harry to talk with his parents for a while, and wandered the cemetery, keeping a close eye on him, to make sure he didn’t get too distressed. Harry was very quiet that evening and asked for an extra session with Ringstar the next day, having to come to deeply respect, trust and rely on the Mind Healer’s abilities.

Harry spent the afternoons that Soraya had to work here and there, either in sessions with Ringstar, reading his school books or wandering up and down Diagon Alley under one of his glamours, exploring all the nooks and crannies, perfectly safe under his Guduriak protections. Little did he know that Ragnok had designated one of his security detail to follow the young man, under an invisibility spell, just to ensure he stayed safe.

Harry also explored the contents of his mother’s trunk. It was mainly notes from Hogwarts classes, old essays, a few books that hadn’t made their way to the family library, and some letters from his Evans grandparents to Lily at school. They gave hints of who his mother had been, but there was nothing earth-shattering like letters to Harry, to be only opened after death.

He was pleased to have the trunk, it was his only tangible link to his Mum. Harry suspected it had only ended up at the Dursleys by accident, after his grandparent’s home was sold, which made the whole experience a little bittersweet, with the ‘what could have beens’ it might have held.

~0~0~

The remaining weekends were spent having fun. They went to Brighton to experience a Muggle seaside visit, went back to the dragon reserve as Harry had loads more questions, and flew whenever they could. They also enjoyed evenings at home, Harry happily cooking with Soraya, knowing he’d be allowed to eat the fruits of his labour.

All too soon, the end of August arrived. Harry was due to leave on the first of September, which was a Sunday. The day before, his Guduriak friends threw him a massive party to wish him well. They enjoyed the last hurrah of summer for Harry, holding it at the beach house in the Enklabe. Ches, being a Gringotts employee also, had been given special dispensation from the Elders to join in.

It was a fabulous day, with wonderful Basque-influenced food, plenty of swimming and splashing around, and even a team sandcastle building contest, where Harry and Grinlast triumphed with a many turreted castle, complete with moat, that outdid the others by a long way. Even Ragnok, who was joined by his wife Windspur for the day, was persuaded to enter the contest.

The only truly serious part of the day was a brief chat Ragnok had with Harry and Soraya. They’d finally gotten done with their search of the Potter Vault, looking for his parents’ wills. As concerned as the Potters had always been about protecting Harry, the Buruzagi couldn’t believe that Lily and James had neglected to set up such basic protections for their son.

When Ragnok was done explaining their so far fruitless search, he’d gone on to request Harry’s permission to search the partially wrecked cottage at Godric’s Hollow. Perhaps the wills just hadn’t been able to be lodged at the bank because the Potters had been forced into hiding. Harry had no objection at all to such actions, finding it still oddly thrilling that he had adults who cared about him.

The last part of the night had all the Guduriak saying their farewells to Harry. There were a few tears, many hugs, and several going-away presents, the most valuable of which came from Ragnok and Firelock. They presented Harry with an ornately carved wooden box, a little larger than his hand. When the lid was opened, the underside held a mirror, while the rest of the box was empty.

“If you open the box, touch the mirror and say our names, you can talk back and forth with us, much as if we were making a floo call. Though much easier on the knees,” Firelock said with a chuckle.

“And if we need to pass anything between any of us, that might be too big or heavy for Hedwig, or needs to be sent through urgently, you just use the box and it’ll come through to the boxes in our offices or homes here in Enklabe almost instantly,” Ragnok finished.

Seeing a slightly dubious look on Harry’s face, Ragnok grabbed an empty food platter from the table to the side and hovered it over the open box. Immediately the box expanded to accommodate the size of the platter, Ragnok said his assistant’s name, shut the lid, and then Firelock placed the box’s twin next to it, opening the suddenly expanded box to reveal the platter safe and sound.

Harry’s face split into a wide grin and he applauded the spectacle, pronouncing it “Brilliant”. He was happier still when Soraya received her own mirror-box, knowing he’d be able to chat with her while at Hogwarts as well.

Harry would also be getting regular visits, fortnightly for now, from Ringstar, as he was greatly benefiting from the Mind Healing. Poppy Pomfrey, the Hogwarts mediwitch, had been taken into their confidence and had offered her Floo and a private room in the Infirmary for them to meet. Add in the instant communication via the mirror-boxes, and they had created the best safety net possible for the boy they’d all come to love. Now it was time to send him to school, with all their best wishes.

 

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