56Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series in its print, e-book, audio book, or film versions. The Harry Potter series belongs to its respective author (J.K. Rowling), publishing company (Scholastic and its divisions), and film company (Warner Bros.). I am not making any monetary or other equivalent profit from this. Everything that is not recognizable as belonging to the aforementioned is mine, please respect that.
Source: the base of this story is drawn from this text-
Rowling, J K, and Mary GrandPré. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. 1998. Print.
and this film-
Heyman, David, Steven Kloves, Chris Columbus, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, Emma Watson, John Cleese, Robbie Coltrane, Richard Griffiths, Richard Harris, Maggie Smith, Alan Rickman, Fiona Shaw, Julie Walters, John Seale, Richard Francis-Bruce, John Williams, Mark Radcliffe, Michael Barnathan, Duncan Henderson, and J K. Rowling. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Burbank, Calif: Warner Home Video, 2002.
Summary: AU. Harry Potter is not the Boy-Who-Lived, but his life isn't dull. The Potter Family has big problems; Voldemort and his cronies keep attacking his friend Neville, the Boy-Who-Lived; his other friendships are often troubled, and his schoolwork and other studies are difficult. Not to mention that he has Gryffindor Quidditch at school and International Youth Quidditch Camp in the summer. Yeah, Harry's life is never dull. Oh, and he might have discovered a cult in Hogwarts.
A/N: A Few Important Notes-
- This is an Alternate Universe story wherein Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived instead of Harry, and Harry's parents are alive. As such, you can expect characters to behave differently than they would canonically, because of their different positions in life.
- This story will start with Harry's first year at Hogwarts and continue throughout the rest of his school career, possibly including 'eighth' year. (Yeah, I've got that much planned. lol)
- Lily is not a good person in this story, but there is an explanation for this that will come later in the story or series. (Sorry Lily lovers)
- Eventually there will be slash (male x male) pairings/couples in this series. However, this won't occur until the characters are older. The main pairing will eventually be Drarry (Harry x Draco / Draco x Harry), but Draco has to change and grow a bit first. Harry might date other guys before Draco too. Draco will always have a presence in the story though.
- I doubt the rating will ever go past T, but if it does I will change the rating accordingly and inform the readers.
-Thanks for checking out my story! I hope you enjoy it!
- Special Thanks to my dear friend MissMintCoffeeMocha for checking over this chapter :)
The Curator Chronicles:
Year I – Cracking the Pot
By: HowlingRain
Chapter 1: A Diagonal Path
Settled on a gently rolling hill sat Potter Manor. The manor house was not especially large by manor standards. It did not have a ballroom, receiving rooms, a formal parlor, solarium, or other such excesses. That is not to say that the manor was more akin to a simple home, but when compared to other manor houses, Potter Manor was decidedly cozy. Warm colors of wood and fieldstone dominated the interior. The furniture was large and comfortable. It was still an impressive home, but by no means was it extraordinary in its assets.
Curled up in one of the large, brown, leather chairs in the library was one of those less-than-extraordinary assets. A smaller than average boy with untamable, jet-black hair and round-lensed spectacles carefully turned the pages of a book filled with images of dragons. None of the images moved, and only about half of them were done in color, but that didn't matter to the Potter heir. He gave each page his full and undivided attention, eyes of emerald green riveted to the artist's brush, pen, and pencil strokes with a longing desire to see them in their original form. It was probably his seventh time perusing it since Remus had sent it to him on his birthday, but his fascination with it had yet to dull.
When he reached the end of the short book almost five hours after he started it, the young Potter caressed the cover and sighed. He wanted to create images as beautiful as Rin Asita, but she was an extraordinary artist, and he was just Harry.
With that thought in mind, Harry put the book away amongst the section of shelves designated for art books with care before looking to the library's intricately carved grandfather clock. It was nearly noon. Harry frowned. His mother was supposed to take him to Diagon Alley today to get his school supplies. Not that he really needed her to go with him, but she'd told James that they'd be leaving this morning. It was possible she could suddenly show up, and they would floo to the Alley in the last few minutes before noon, but it was more likely that she'd completely forgotten after getting a letter from one of her many friends. It wouldn't be the first time.
"Pips!" Harry called.
With a soft crack, a young house elf with big ears and liquid brown eyes appeared wearing a chocolate-brown robe with close-fitting sleeves that bore the Potter crest. "Yous being calling Pips, young Master?"
"Yes, is Mother home?" Harry asked politely.
"No, young Master. Mistress Lily is being away visiting Mister Leopold," Pips replied evenly.
Harry thought for a moment. As far as he could see he had two options. He could go to Diagon Alley himself, or he could stay here and wait for his mother. Lily could be gone anywhere from a few hours to all afternoon though, and he really wanted to get his school stuff. Besides, she probably didn't really want to take him shopping anyway, and if he went by himself he could look at a lot more things. Harry smiled. He would save them both a lot of trouble if he went on his own. Lily wouldn't even be surprised, just glad she didn't have to take him. He'd just have to make sure he got home before his dad did.
Decision made, Harry asked Pips to ready the floo, which really only involved getting the floo powder down from the floo-room fireplace's tall mantle for him since he couldn't reach, while he changed his clothes to something more suitable for shopping in wizarding London than his everyday trousers and tunic.
••••••••
Harry ended up eating a sandwich for lunch first at the insistence of Pips' mother-elf Romy, then floo'ed into the Leaky Cauldron and sneezed the moment he stepped out of the fireplace. Floo powder always seemed to make him sneeze. Even when he managed not to breathe any in it tickled his nose. He couldn't explain why it happened, just that it always did and that is caused his mother's displeasure and godfather and sort-of-just-as-well-as godfather's amusement. It was also how Tom the Barkeep always knew when he arrived.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter," Tom greeted him pleasantly from the bar, but with a touch of surprise and relief to his voice. "Need to get into the Alley today?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He smiled up at Tom as he dusted his robes off as best he could. "I'm going to get my Hogwarts supplies!"
"Oh, Mr. Quirrell here'll be one of your professors then," Tom said, coming around the bar and gesturing toward a man wearing a plum-colored turban who sat perched on the edge of a barstool.
"Really?" Harry directed towards Tom, and then turned to the turban-wearing man. "Hello, Professor."
"H-hello, M-mr. P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell said. He smiled and nodded awkwardly before standing in preparation to leave. "I-I'll be s-seeing you at sc-school then, I s-suppose." Harry nodded, confused at the professor's stutter, and Quirrell continued nodding before moving to walk past them. "I-I'd best be g-going. M-much to d-do before c-classes s-start, you know."
Quirrell walked past them, and Harry suddenly caught a whiff of garlic and some other smell and thought he understood why Tom had looked relieved when he arrived.
"Too bad, that stutter of his," Tom said once Quirrell was gone, "I think he was attacked by a vampire somewhere in Romania. Frightened his tongue into tangles. And the garlic! Anyway, shopping, eh? Are your mother and father meeting you?"
"No, Mother's with a friend today, and Dad's at work," Harry said.
A slightly strained quality seemed to come to Tom's face, but before Harry could ask if he was all right or if the garlic fumes had gotten to him, Tom was turning around. "Really? Well then, I'll let you right in."
Harry blinked in surprise, then followed Tom back to the disguised passageway and paid close attention as Tom tapped his wand against the bricks in a special sequence. Harry cheered internally when he remembered the pattern correctly and the bricks formed the passage to the Alley. Forgetting all about the tightness to Tom's expression, Harry cheerfully thanked Tom and took off down the passage and into the Alley.
The sights and sounds that embraced Harry the moment he stepped in the Alley sent a trill of excitement through him. Diagon Alley was always so active and energetic compared to Potter Manor. The bustling businesses and many people around had scared him the first few times he'd been there, but now he felt enlivened by the activity. Add to that his excitement at finally getting a wand, the official right of passage and acceptance to the wizarding community, and he was left wanting to run and cheer his way down the Alley and see everything there was to see. That wouldn't be appropriate though, so Harry settled for walking with quick steps and a bright smile.
He only had a few galleons of his own with him, so Harry knew his first stop would have to be at Gringotts, where he knew he had a trust vault that was supposed to become available to him the moment his schooling years started. His dad had even given him the key to it for his birthday.
The goblins standing guard in front of the white marble bank looked fearsome in their red-enameled armor. If Harry remembered his lessons with Professor Mercier correctly, red was the color of the Metalweaver clan, the clan that King Ragnuk the First, the maker of Gryffindor's sword, came from. They were also the clan that distrusted wizards the most. After seeing them, Harry decided to be extra polite today.
Walking into Gringotts' lobby, Harry was greeted to the sight of high ceilings and tall teller's desks with goblins of all stripes focused on their work, some of them looking intently at jewels while others fussed with papers and stacks of coins. On each of the goblins' persons Harry could find a splash of color announcing which clan each goblin belonged to. As with the guards, today's most prominent color was red.
Harry went up to the teller and waited. This goblin was also wearing red, and when it looked down to him with a look that clearly said, 'state your business', Harry quickly rattled off his greeting. "H-hello, I'd like to access my vault, please."
"Name and key?" the goblin asked in a slow drawl.
"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said and pulled out his key and the goblin floated it up for inspection with a wave of his hand. After a short moment, the goblin glanced down at him and said, "It seems all is in order, Mr. Potter. Griphook will take you to your vault."
The goblin floated the key back down to Harry, and Harry marveled once again at how goblins could do magic without wands before remembering his manners. "Thank you, and may your enemies tremble in fear."
The goblin blinked in surprise before replying, "And may your vaults overflow."
Harry grinned to himself at getting his formalities right, then turned to Griphook and prepared himself for the crazy underground ride he knew was coming.
••••••••
Back out in the Alley, Harry could still feel the rush from the underground cart ride mixing with his astonishment of how much money was in his trust fund. It had to be a small fortune. He was also pretty sure Griphook had made the ride back even faster because of how Harry had enjoyed the ride down. Now Harry had to put that behind him and focus on buying his school supplies and returning home before his dad did.
Pulling out his school list, Harry decided that, first things first, he needed to get his uniform. Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions was conveniently located near the bank, so Harry walked over and went in with the jingle of a bell announcing his presence. He hardly had time to speak before enthusiastic Madam Malkin herself had him standing on a pedestal with a plain black robe thrown on while she went about quickly pinning it to the right length.
On the pedestal next to Harry's, a boy with slicked-back platinum blond hair stood with another witch pinning his robe to the proper length as well. His skin was nearly as pale as Gringotts' marble façade, and his features were rather pointed. Harry wondered if he should say something, but a couple things held him back. He'd never really talked to people much, and especially not to someone his age, so how was one supposed to go about it? Then there was that the boy looked sort of familiar, but Harry couldn't place him.
"Hello," the blond said suddenly. "Hogwarts too?"
Surprised, Harry simply said, "Yes."
"Ah, well, my father's already off buying my books and my mother's looking at cauldrons, but I want to look at the racing brooms," his voice was a slow drawl that practically oozed 'upper class', but a faint flush of pink was slowly building in his cheeks. "I don't see why first years can't have their own brooms. I think I'll make my father get me one anyway, and I'll smuggle it in."
Harry just stared at him. How did he plan to smuggle in a broom? Unless he could get someone to cast a shrinking charm and undo it once he got to school it wouldn't exactly pass unnoticed, plus it would be difficult to hide while at school too.
Harry must've taken too long to reply, because the blond started talking again by asking him a question, "What about you? Do you have your own broom?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "but it's just my dad's old one from school. He won't let me fly his new one." That was true. Harry was a pretty good flyer, seeing as it was one of the few things his dad enjoyed doing with him on the rare occasions he got free time. However, no matter how brilliant Sirius claimed he was when his godfather came over and saw him fly, and no matter how many times Sirius whined, 'but James!' and argued that Harry wasn't a sickly little child anymore, his dad would not allow him to try flying the Cleansweep six he used for work.
"Play Quidditch at all?" the blond asked.
"Only seeker's games." Harry almost added, 'because I don't have anyone else to play with' but stopped himself. He didn't want to sound like he had no friends, even if it was true.
The boy got a strange, guarded look on his face, one that seemed to be a mix of suspicion and calculation. Then the witches pinning their robes distracted them by asking them to take the robes off. To Harry's surprise, the blond was wearing clothes underneath the robe similar to his: leather boots, trousers tucked into the boots, a tunic (though his was long sleeved to Harry's short sleeves), and there was a lightweight, open-front, summer robe without sleeves that could be seen draped over a chair to the side that would go over the ensemble. The only real difference was that the blond's outfit followed a dusty blue and black color scheme while Harry's followed a golden-yellow and brown one.
The witch working with the blond then threw a basic, black winter cloak over his shoulders, fastened it, and started pinning it to the right length while Madam Malkin put another robe on Harry. Harry had to hold back a sigh when he remembered that the list said three sets of robes, so he'd have to go through this pinning business for a lot longer than he thought. At least the pins were enchanted in a peculiar way that sent the already pinned robes straight to being sewn and then dropped into the pile waiting for them.
"Seeker's games, huh?" The blond asked as soon as the witches had them arranged how they pleased, "I want to be seeker for my house team. Do you know what house you'll be in yet?"
"I'm expected to be in Gryffindor," Harry said in a slightly lower tone. According to James, the Potters were always in Gryffindor. Sirius, Remus, and Lily had all been Gryffindors as well. Harry wasn't actually sure he was brave enough to go there though. He didn't think he'd ever done anything particularly brave before, and his tutor, Professor Mercier, always praised him for being smart, not brave. Maybe the hat would want to put him in Ravenclaw.
The blond was looking at him funny again.
"I'll be in Slytherin. My whole family's been in Slytherin, after all. Of course, you don't really know until you get there, but if I ended up in Hufflepuff I think I'd leave." The way he raised one eyebrow suggested he was silently asking, 'Would you?'
Harry thought for a moment. "I don't know, I doubt my parents would take me out of school or anything, but I don't think I'll end up there, so I probably won't have to worry about it."
The boy gave him another sort of calculating look as the witch working on his clothes had him take off the cloak and sewed it up before beginning to wrap his purchases in brown paper. "You're probably right," he said. The witch gave the blond his package of clothes and told him she'd ring him up at the front. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said with a nod after hopping off the pedestal in preparation to leave.
Harry blinked, finally recognizing the blond from his picture on the Black Tapestry in Sirius's house. He nodded in return, "Harry Potter."
Then it was the young Malfoy heir's turn to blink before he turned away, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be seeing you at Hogwarts, then."
After that, Harry spent the rest of his time at Madam Malkin's pondering the somewhat rude Malfoy heir, particularly the odd searching looks he'd given him at times. When he finally broke free from the clutches of clothing, he was still so lost in his thoughts of potentially making a friend that he walked both into the alley and into Remus Lupin.
"M-moony!" For a moment, Harry felt terror spike through him. He wasn't supposed to be here alone. He was supposed to be here with Lily. Lily would be furious if he got her in trouble for being with a friend instead of where she said she'd be. There'd been a couple close calls like that before where he'd almost given away that Lily had gone out with friends. She'd punished him for that. He didn't want to be punished again.
"Harry, what are you doing here? Are you all right?" Remus asked his shaken sort-of-just-as-well-as unofficial godson.
"I-I'm fine," Harry lied, trying to master his sudden fright and mostly succeeding. "I'm shopping for my school supplies. What are you doing here?"
"Shopping for school supplies? That's right, you do get to go to Hogwarts this year." Remus put on a smile, but for some reason it looked strained. "Where're Lily and James?"
Harry put on a smile too and did his best to make it look mischievous. "Not here. Mother got distracted and was taking forever, so I came without her!" Then he added as an afterthought, "Dad's at work."
"Harry," Remus scolded, "you should know better than to come to the Alley by yourself. It's dangerous for children to run about alone in such places. What if you'd gotten lost or been hurt?"
Looking down at the ground, Harry mumbled, "I've done it before and nothing's happened."
Remus's sharp werewolf hearing must have caught that because he sighed and asked, "How many times?"
Harry shrugged. He'd lost count a while back, but it was more than a few times, usually to go to the bookstore where everyone was too encouraged by the sight of a kid looking at the books to ask him why he was there alone.
Remus sighed again. "Come on, let's get you home."
"No!" Harry burst out, surprising himself. "I've gotten through the bank and buying robes by myself, but I still have to finish the rest of the list! Please, Moony? I got the money out of my own trust vault, can't I finish my shopping first?"
Remus looked at Harry for a long time, a string of emotions warring on his face before he gave in. "All right, you've already gotten this far, I suppose you should see it through." Harry cheered. "I'm coming with you though," he finished with a raised brow.
Harry gave him a brilliant smile and grabbed his arm, "Let's go to the trunk store next! Then we can put all the stuff I buy in it instead of carrying all the bags."
This time Remus's smile was genuine, and Harry, determined to keep it that way, turned to chattering about the art book Remus had sent him for his birthday.
As they went through the next stores, Harry realized it was a good idea to have Remus along. The werewolf knew all sorts of things about picking out the right equipment and even the best ingredients for his potions kit. He didn't let Harry look at the new Nimbus 2000 sitting in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies though.
When they went to Eeylopes Owl Emporium Remus wasn't much help. Other than the basic attributes that all owls had, he really didn't know much about them, so Harry was left to his own judgment. He walked slowly up and down the darkened aisles, looking into the rows of cages set on tables and hanging from the ceiling filled with flashing, golden eyes. Some seemed a bit too excitable, flapping their wings and hooting loudly. Others a bit too standoffish, they ignored him or looking down on him imperiously. Some just didn't catch his eye, all dull brown, soft grey, and muted reddish colors.
Harry began to wonder if it was worth it to get an owl. They were expensive. Most families only had one owl, or used the postal service instead. Then he rounded a corner and a beautiful owl caught his eye. Perched calmly in a cage hung from the ceiling, its feathers were a black and white combination that created a stark contrast against each other, which reminded him of Rin Asita's ink drawings.
After moving closer, he read the tag that hung from the cage-bottom. She was a female snowy owl, a year and a couple months old, and a tad on the expensive side. Harry battled with himself, but he couldn't resist her allure. She was gorgeous, and even if she did seem a little aloof on the surface, he could detect a bit of curiosity in her brilliantly gold eyes. Reaching his decision, Harry waved Remus over to get the cage down and then went to the counter to pay for her.
"What are you going to name her?" Remus asked as they left the shop and began walking to their last stop, Ollivander's, where Remus claimed that he, Harry's dad, and Harry's mum had gotten their wands.
Harry was quiet for a minute, looking at the bird contemplatively. "I don't know yet," he finally said, "maybe I'll find something in my school books to call her."
Remus seemed surprised; undoubtedly he'd expected Harry to name the bird almost immediately and for it's name to be something based on how it looked. Privately, Harry thought names like that were rather silly.
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. was a little shop that had a wand sitting on a faded velvet cushion in the window. Harry had always marveled at the shop when he'd visited to the Alley, but he'd never gone inside. He could feel how the magic permeating the Alley flowed differently here. The magic seemed to go calm and still. It whispered and drifted here rather than the humming and swooshing of the rest of the Alley. He'd held back from entering before because he hadn't had an excuse to go in, but now he did.
A little bell from above the door jingled when Harry and Remus entered the narrow shop. Dust motes floated silently in the air, causing Remus to sneeze as he set down Harry's purchases and sat in a rickety chair usually reserved for the parents of the shop's most common patrons. Harry moved up to the counter and looked around the shop in mild awe. High shelves were chocked full of long, thin, rectangular boxes, many of which wore a liberal coating of dust, and Harry could hardly believe that each of those hundreds of boxes held a wand inside. The quiet calmness of the magic Harry could detect outside of the shop had a different feel to it now. There were soft murmurs and gentle hums filling the air and floating about in a seeking manner. Some of the tones were harsh, while others were barely a sigh.
So entranced was Harry by the magic in the small shop that he didn't notice Mr. Ollivander's arrival until the silver-eyed man was right in front of him and looking down at him with a sharp analytical expression. "Mr. Potter, here for your first wand, eh?"
Harry jumped slightly with startled surprise and nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."
"And who do you have with you? Ah, Mr. Lupin! Cypress and unicorn hair, ten and a fourth inches, pliable, if I remember correctly," Ollivander rattled off, and Harry stared at him in shock.
"Yes, sir, that's right," Remus said with a smile. "It's served me well."
"Do you remember every wand you've made and who you sold it to?" Harry asked with wide eyes, and then added, "Mr. Ollivander," as he remembered his manners.
Ollivander blinked down at him owlishly before answering. "Indeed I do. Your mother's wand was ten and three-quarter inches as well, rather long and swishy that one, made of willow, excellent for charm work. Your father's wand was a bit more powerful, mahogany, eleven inches, pliable, a strong wand for transfiguration."
Harry was so astonished that he gaped at the wandmaker.
Ollivander chuckled and flicked his wand, causing a tape measure to fly off the counter and begin measuring him. "Well, let's see what wand will choose you, eh?" Ollivander said, and then disappeared amongst the shelves. He returned moments later with a small stack of boxes and flicked his wand again, causing the tape measure to zoom back to its place on the counter.
"What do you mean, 'what wand will choose me'?" Harry asked as Ollivander debated over which wand to try first and then seemed to pick a box at random. He didn't know much about wand lore. He'd never covered it with Professor Mercier, and, though he knew every person's wand was special to them, he'd never heard why that was.
"Wands are tricky things," Ollivander explained. "Their different woods and cores bind together and create a sort of personality, if you will. Just like people, some personalities don't mix well with others, so it's my job to find which wand will accept the personality of the wizard they're to be paired with. Which arm's your wand arm?"
Harry, trying to absorb this new information about wands, automatically held out his right arm, and Ollivander handed him a wand while extoling its make-up. The moment the wand touched his skin, he felt a sort of unpleasant tingle run up his arm. It was uncomfortable, awkward even. Harry knew in just those few seconds that he didn't like the feel of this wand.
"Well, give it a wave," Ollivander said.
Harry did, but he felt rather foolish doing so and nothing happened.
Ollivander snatched the wand away and handed him another one, but the same sort of thing happened again, only this wand felt a little angrier than the last.
The next two wands Harry didn't even get to wave, he touched them, felt the same feeling of discomfort, and Ollivander snatched them away before disappearing into the stacks once more.
Ollivander's next batch of boxes was more varied. Harry got a range of different feelings from their magic, from uncomfortable to heavy to frightened to something cool and slimy that made him shiver and set the wand down with respectful caution. As they went, Harry started to despair at all the bad vibes he was getting, but Ollivander grew more cheerful and thoughtful, paying closer attention to Harry's facial expressions and physical responses to each wand while muttering happily about tricky customers.
It wasn't until the counter was cluttered with piles of boxes and Remus had stepped out to get them all some ice cream that Harry was chosen by a wand. Once Remus had left, Ollivander went to a particularly dusty shelf of boxes and slowly withdrew a few. He brought them back to the counter and laid them out in the last clear space that still remained. Leaving the lids on the boxes, he looked intently at Harry.
"You can feel some of the magic." Ollivander tapped the side of his nose in a knowing manner. "Now, these are some of my trickier wands to place. Most of them are projects I experimented with when I was younger. I want you to try out the one you feel most drawn to."
Under Ollivander's watchful eyes, Harry focused on the three boxes in front of him. Now that he had a task rather than the frustration and desperation that came with being handed a wand and having it snatched away, Harry stepped out of the rather bleak mood he'd gained after going through so many wands unsuccessfully. His curiosity was piqued. He was a tricky customer, as Ollivander said, so it only seemed right that he would need an equally tricky wand.
The boxes on the counter all looked the same, but even through the boxes Harry could feel the wands' magic reaching out in a probing way. To try and get a better feel of it, Harry held a hand up, and moved it over the boxes. The left box felt sort of shadowy and mysterious. Its voice was an intriguing whisper of things unknown. The middle box felt different in a strange way. The magic around it felt solid, yet graceful, but sort of quirky as well. It had a very soft hum that still somehow conveyed a thrum of power. It also had a sort of grasping quality to it, like it wanted to grab him. The box on the right was quiet in a sort of secretive way. He couldn't feel much else from it, like it had put up a guard against him.
It was the grasping quality of the magic that emanated from the middle box that caused Harry to reach out and open it. If a wand was supposed to choose its wizard, then it made sense that the wand might be trying to get him to pick it up. Upon opening the box, Harry was greeted with a wand coated with a dark stain that had a slight reddish tint to it as well as a lighter, more honey-colored carving that, upon closer inspection, proved to be the image of a dragon placed slightly above the wand's extra dark and near seamlessly smooth grip.
The magic called to him even more strongly with the box open, and Harry suddenly understood that this was his wand. He reached in and picked it up. Delicious warmth spread through him at the contact that settled like a flame in the center of his chest along with a sense of belonging and a sort of snap that he attributed to the wand binding itself to his magical signature.
"Well, well, how curious," Ollivander mumbled, then raised his voice, "Larch wood and phoenix feather, eleven inches, supple, stained with dragon's blood." Ollivander chuckled, "One of the works from my experimental days. With it's peculiar nature I wasn't sure if it would ever find a match. You must be in for an interesting life, Mr. Potter." The door opened, setting the bell to jingling, and Remus walked in with two ice creams. "Ah, Mr. Lupin! We think we've found one!" Ollivander said cheerily before turning back to Harry. "Well, now that you've found it, why don't you give it a wave?"
This time, Harry didn't feel nervous or uncertain when he waved a wand. This wand, he knew, would do whatever it was that it was supposed to. He gave it a wave, and glittering little dragons came out of the end. A blue one and a brown one went into a dive and skimmed across the floorboards while a red one and a green one shot up high into the air to weave through the rafters. A purple one landed on the counter and let out a roar of vibrant sparks. A white one and a black one spun through the air together at mid-height, racing each other and doing tricks.
Harry watched it all in amazement. Ollivander clapped joyfully. Remus stared gape-mouthed. After a few moments, the dragons burst into a cloud of smoky sparkles before fading out of existence.
Harry was ecstatic. "Did you see that, Moony? Did you see it!"
"I saw it! That was brilliant, Bambi," Remus praised.
"Yes, that was quite something," Ollivander agreed. "It will be interesting to see what other quirks this tricky wand has in store for you, my tricky customer. Most wands just shoot off sparks when they accept a wizard."
"Then why didn't this one?" Remus asked, eyeing the wand in Harry's hand.
"Ah, this one's from my experimental days. It's a bit unique."
"I'll write you about anything else different it does, if you want me to," Harry said excitedly.
"I would very much appreciate it, Mr. Potter."
••••••••
Harry hardly remembered the rest of his trip through the Alley; he was too excited about his wand and distracted by the treacle tart flavored ice cream Remus bought him. Remus tried to encourage him to store his wand safely in the messenger bag he'd gotten for carrying his books to classes, but Harry didn't want to let it leave his person, so Remus took him to buy a leather wand holster before leading him back into the Leaky Cauldron. There, Remus took him to the fireplace and watched with a troubled expression as Harry floo'ed back to Potter Manor with his school supplies in tow.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of The Curator Chronicles! There's a lot of stuff being set up in this chapter, and I hope I didn't lose anyone in the traditional 'Harry goes to Diagon Alley and gets his stuff' sequence. I also hope I changed Draco's lines enough; it was hard with how simply 'Draco' they are. Anyway, please leave a review! Constructive criticism is welcome, especially on the structure of my story, and you're free to leave as little as a smiley or frowny face if you want. And let me know if there are any spelling, grammar, or formatting errors so I can fix them.
Thanks for reading! :) ~ HowlingRain