Walking out of the bank and breathing in the air, the cold felt like fire. Harry turned around slowly. No one seemed to notice him. Not any of the shoppers who walked in brisk steps, nor the few kids near the fountain who were happily splashing each other, shrieking when the water wet their clothes.
"Your mother left specific instruction for these eggs. She feared that as you grew older, you would have deceitful friends, so she spelled the eggs so that the moment you touch one, the others go to your true friends." Griphook spoke softly as he touched on a more sensitive matter. He saw Harry's eyes well with tears. In truth- and it was an odd thing to notice, the tears made his eyes shine like a leaf after a light rain.
His voice was husky as he spoke. "Even in death, she was looking out for me. My mother was amazing."
Griphook nodded from behind his desk. "She was, Harry. She was incredibly talented, and a friend to the goblins. Most wizards do not make it past mediocrity."
Harry offered a watery chuckle, and took a minute to compose himself. It was embarrassing, really, to keep setting off like this. He muttered a quick thanks at the goblin's patience, and wiped his eyes with a sleeve. After a few deep breaths, his eyes felt sore but he blinked and kept the unfamiliar sensation in the back of his mind.
"How will I know who receives the eggs? Can I attach a letter to them or something?" I don't want to keep guessing about this all summer." He thought Ron and Hermione would get the remaining eggs, and maybe Ginny. However, after what Griphook had told him, Harry wasn't willing to bet on anyone just yet.
Griphook nodded and spelled for some writing utensils and paper. He stuck the brief letters on the eggs with a goblin variation of a sticking charm. "Now simply touch your egg, and the others will disappear to their owners."
Harry offered a brief nod, before placing his hand on his egg, the second one to the right. The moment he did so, it pulsed an immense heat, and the other eggs disappeared with a faint 'pop'.
"It's warm," Harry whispered. To the egg, he pressed his lips against the shell. "Your so warm." The egg flashed a bright white, before vibrating and suddenly relaxing in his hands. It's stayed, unlike the others.
"It recognizes you as the owner," Griphook explained. He handed Harry a punch for the egg.
Harry laughed slightly giddy, and cradled the egg to his chest. "Will Dumbledore be able to take my true familiar away?" He asked anxiously.
Griphool frowned. "No. No wizard can interfere with a true familiar. Even if he tried, your familiar can simply aparate to you. The bond between a true familiar and its human is something no magic can break. Now, I want to explain one more thing about your mother's trunk."
He walked over to the trunk and waved his bony hand over the top, at the carved ancient runes. "Your mother spelled the trunk to proceed through time faster than normal. She told me that once you have and activated the runes, which can be done so through keying your blood into the wards, a day in the world would be roughly equivalent to a month in the trunk." Ragnok snapped his head up and looked at Harry. "In my opinion, this arrangement would be optimal for training. But you might want to get a house elf to get you food. They are the only creatures that can stay in sync between the time differences."
Harry felt a smile creep up his face, the biggest one he had worn since Sirius. "I plan on doing just that, Griphook. By the time I am done, I will no longer be weak. I will be Lord Potter-Black, and I plan on protecting all, be it wizard, goblin, or whoever. I plan on changing the world."
Griphook gasped slightly as Harry was engulfed in a faint aura. "That's a very powerful promise, Harry. Do you really mean it?" Harry nodded immediately. and Griphook smirked, twisting his face.
"Then you shall be trained in the ways of the goblin. If you truly mean what you say, perhaps your destiny is more clear than I had anticipated. I shall send my finest warrior to your house on Saturday, 9:00 am. You will train for a week, but with the time rune trunk, it shall be 7 months." Griphook nodded, and pushed himself away from the desk and walked to an ivory shelf at the edge of the room. He picked up two books, and swiped a pointed thumb on the bind. It fell open in his hands.
"I'd like for you to read these, Harry. These books contain the recordings of goblin history and culture. You will find use for these."
He hesitantly held out a hand. "Sir, are you sure? These are-whoa." Griphook chuckled.
"As a friend of the goblins, Harry, not only do I want you to read them, but to keep them. Goblins are prized on security, so like the trunk, these are activated by blood. Swipe your blood on the spine, and the book will recognize you as a friend."
Griphook stood up, and the chair made a slight screeching sound as it was pushed in. "And now, I believe I have taken enough of your time. I suggest you rest a while, perhaps spend your fortune on a token or two. If I may suggest, the lurid purple shop in Knockturn Alley is an excellent place to start. Have a good day, Harry. I expect I'll be seeing you later."
He left the room, and reached to meet Ragnok for the day's events. As he sat down next to the wise goblin, Ragnok stood and nodded to the picture of the girl whos hair shifted color. It was frozen in a scarlet.
"It's time."
xXxXxXx
Harry nodded blankly at the comment after Ragnok. Everything had come in such a short, small space of time. Walking out of the bank and breathing in the air, the cold felt like fire. Harry turned around slowly. No one seemed to notice him. Not any of the shoppers who walked in brisk steps, nor the few kids near the fountain who were happily splashing each other, shrieking when the water wet their clothes.
The crowd thinned out from a hungry bustle to a meager scatter as his steps turned into heavy thuds approaching Knockturn Alley. He had never really looked into the alley before-Mrs Weasley's hand had been sharp in regards to these stores. Now, alone with a heavy weighing bag strapped to the left of his pants, he scanned the alley trying to make sense of it all. There was a shabby wood sign as the only indication he was where he was meant to be- scrawled in shaky writing was 'Knockturn Alley'. Many of the passersby had drawn up hoods to cover their faces, and girls and boys alike shakily walked to and from shops in light footsteps.
The path was barren, but Harry could see a purple shop that appeared as a small house of cards from the entrance of the alley. No one seemed to take notice of it.
As he walked in, he noticed that the shop had a heavy darkness to him, like powder. It smelled like lilacs and forging metal, something Harry never thought would work as a scent. He walked cautiously, unsure of the situation.
There was a counter in the front, similar to the one in Ollivanders. Unlike Ollivanders, there were no wands-only rows of compartments that hid their secrets behind closed shelves.
He peered intently at the brass shine that ran around the perimeter of the counter. His reflection wouldn't show despite it being perfectly clean.
"Hello Harry Potter."
He snapped his neck up to meet the dangerously soft voice. His eyes widened. In front of him was a man peering at him with the brightest golden eyes and a beard that fell so low the end was hidden behind the counter. His sable face was lined with wrinkles.
"Uh.."
The man behind the counter chuckled softly, dangerously. His thumb stroked the brass Harry had been examining, but his gaze stayed on Harry.
"Eep."
"You need a wand, I presume? An untraceable one, one to match your true power? Hold out your hand then."
"Wha-"
A small flame near the entry of the shop flickered to life for a moment, shooting out embers. On the door, the sign hanging on the hook flipped so outside, it would show as closed.
"I am Timothy. You will hold out your hand now?" Harry nodded subtly, but he stayed frozen to the ground, simply staring, his lips forming words of no sound.
"Your hand," Timothy purred. "I need your hand." He snapped his fingers.
The sound jostled Harry, who mumbled a meek apology as he placed his hand on the counter, pressing his palm flat down.
"Ahh," murmured Timothy. "Lift up your hand now." His imprint against the glass quickly receded as his hand went quickly into Harry's pocket. Timothy stared at the print intently, before snapping his fingers. A small wooden box appeared on the counter. A crash resounded from the back store room.
"Must have been a bottom box," Timothy mumbled under his breath. Oddly enough, he smiled crookedly.
"Your previous wand is from Ollivanders- yes?" Harry gave a stiff nod.
Timothy smiled, and it was like watching the Earth spit out a sun. His teeth gleamed against the dark shop and skin.
"Ollivander is a tricky man," Timothy admitted. "He tends to create millions of combinations within wands. There is something to be said about the challenge he loves, but I prefer efficiency. You are- Phoenix feather, and holly, no?"
"I am," said Harry with a nod to himself. "How did you-?"
"I prefer to have my customers handpick each part of the wand. The core, the wood.." His thick accent tangled in his mouth. "Stick out your hand, Harry Potter. Over the boxes."
Harry looked at the man, tilting his chin angularly. His eyes held a question, but he didn't know how to say it.
"Who the heck are you?"
"Why do you know literally everything about me?"
He didn't know what to say, so instead Harry stuck out his hand with a grumble hidden in his breath.
There was a pull from the cores, and it was like a magnet drawing him down. His hand jerked in down and up in unpredictable patterns.
"Let your magic guide you." Timothy's voice bubbled over. Harry found himself wishing that the Phoenix feather wouldn't choose him.
Instead, there was a violent spasm of his hand and it wrapped around something soft that brushed against the edges of his fingers, and all Harry could feel was an immense rush of power. A feather floated from his hand, golden like the sun climbing the horizon.
"Griffin," said Timothy simply. The feather, Harry could see now, matched the man's eyes.
"And now, the core."
"Sir," Harry said, trying not to cower. "I haven't got an explanation yet. Who are you? Why do you know everything about me?"
"Ah," Timothy began. "So you can speak in sentences? That is good to know."
He tried not to duck his head. Instead, Harry forced his gaze to meet Timothy's unblinking eyes, and he clasped his hands together under the table.
His voice came out stronger than he realized. "Sir," Harry began. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
Timothy raised an amused eyebrow. "I read people, Harry Potter. That is my job. This is how we put together wands for customers. Now, please wave your hand over the wood."
Blushing faintly, Harry once again stuck his hand over the containers. The same spasm of his hand occurred, and before he knew it, a smooth darkened wood was hidden in his grasp.
"Alder," muttered Timothy. "This isn't good.."
He almost groaned. Another thing gone wrong? Another thing abnormal?
"What do you mean?"
"It means," Timothy said, boring his eyes into his, "It is starting. The heirs will reunite."
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind, never mind," mumbled Timothy. He picked up the wood and and began twisting it around the griffin feather. His hand scorched the wood and carved some design.
"I would like to offer you a gem to ingrain in your wand. You are a friend of the goblins, yes?" Harry nodded slowly.
Timothy laughed deeply. "Only a friend of the goblin can come here. It is how I know I can trust you."
"Are you a friend?" asked Harry, leaning against the glass case. He grazed his palm absentmindedly on the bronze.
"I am." Timothy nodded. "And now, would you accept a piece of hematite in your wand? It gives the user a reign to their power. No extra charge."
"I guess.."
Timothy pushed the piece of rock into the wand at the base, and handed it to Harry. He fingered the wand and found it was an incredibly comfortable fit.
"Lumos," he muttered. The shop filled with light.
"The gem is to reign your power!" Timothy shouted.
"Nox.." The light faded, and Timothy rubbed his eyes.
"200 galleons." Harry spread the gold in the case, and when Timothy had collected his charge, Harry walked out with his new wand tucked in a holster and his old wand uncomfortably in his hand. The brightness made him blink, as it was a stark contrast to the inside of the shop.
He decided he had time. Madam Malkin's was near. He walked lightly this time, hidden in the crowd and already fading in.
A.N.
It's been a while, hasn't it?
I need to thank all readers who have stuck with me till now. Thank you to all who have read this story, and thank you even more to those who have read it, and stuck with it.
I've been busy lately. Classes, homework, studying, sports, volunteer work, familial obligation, mentally dying... its been a lot.
I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Timothy came easy to me. I guess I made him sort of like Ollivander.
The thing is that I have this story planned so far ahead, and it's these small climb chapters that give me the most trouble. Should I trouble the characters? Should I keep everything smooth till my original ideas form? I'm figuring it all out.
As you can see, things are starting. Next chapter will be the shopping trio, cuz Harry can't live in rags. I'll probably have a little Hermione in the next chappie too. There might be an encounter with Vernon Dursley. After next chapter, the training will start.
I've gotten many responses for Draco. Seems like everyone wants him bad. If you have any thoughts, comment! And good Minnie or bad Minnie? Or should I change her personality when it's convenient..
Thanks so much for reading. I'll update as much as I can! Remember, if you feel
Like quitting the story, I have it all planned! My notebook is filled with thoughts and excerpts. Now just to write it all and post it..
Xx Transmission