Summer turned to winter, and back to summer again. The leaves of the trees grew green, before they burst into flames of autumn colors. And sometimes real flames as Harry practiced his new Fwooshing skills.

Time flies when you have fun, and before you know it that wonderful little child you picked up when he was barely 5 have grown into...a slightly older child. But still a child.

Ah, the wonders of youth, Richard thought to himself as he picked up a yellow wildflower to inhale the sweet aroma, watching his son playing cheerfully with some squirrels in the park.

"How are you doing son?" he asked and adjusted his yellow sun-hat.

"I'm up to nineteen now!" Harry yelled, and cast a quick glance back at his beloved daddy, before focusing back on the cute squirrel in his hand.

Richard turned around just in time to see another squirrel go up in flames in his hand.

"TWENTY!" he shouted triumphantly, and his daddy applauded him, before patting his shoulder with his bony hand.

"Well done, son. Well done! Looks like all that training paid off." Richard smiled. Or at least the bones in his face twisted into what could only be perceived as a smile, somewhere under the black cowl he always wore.

It might be a bit hot to be wrapped up in black robes with a full face-covering cowl in summer-time, but that's what the sun-hat was for.

"Yeah. I hardly ever mess up when I Fwoosh now!" Harry grinned and proceeded to light his hand on fire, and Richard studied it.

"Your balance the Fire and Ice good enough that you don't burn your hand anymore. Looking gooood~!" Richard gave his son two thumbs up.

"So can I have that I-scream now?! Please Please Please!" he begged, giving his father his very best puppy-dog eyes just to watch him twitch.

"One day that look will get you set on fire." Richard grumbled, but he still turned on his heel and walked up to the nearest house, blowing the door of his hinges.

Harry waited patiently, rejoicing in the screams that quickly followed as his dad made him his new favorite treat. He had been a bit put out when his daddy refused to share his secret recipe with him, but he had come to suspect that it was because the I-scream was pretty much the only thing Richard had left to bribe him with nowadays.

Over the years young Harry had grown quite powerful -for someone of his age at least. And with it came a confidence previously unknown to the young boy.

That... and a few harrowing experiences that had left young Harry very much a sociopath...or at least terribly amoral. Getting what he wanted for himself was very easy when all you needed to do was to walk up to the owner and take it. And set anyone who protested on fire.

Of course, there was also the fact that he never really needed money to buy anything anymore.

All he had to do was to Fwoosh and ask the shop owner if he'd like to be set on fire, and he got everything he wanted for free!

Good times.

It was not an unusual affair to find small animals on fire inside the house these day. It much more unusual to see an owl dodge a fireball, then peck the young warlock over the head and mess up his hair, before leaving him with a very antiquated looking letter. One could go so far and say that it had never even happened before.

It left Harry more than a little confused, as he held it up to read while patting his hair down with his other hand.

"Harry, dear. I think that's a Post Owl of some kind. Be nice to those who bring you gifts. It's more beneficial in the long run," his grandmother said, before handing the owl a nice, big piece of bacon, which it gracefully accept as if this was everyday happening to

"Oh, awesome!" Harry squealed. "Mooooom! I got my wizard-school letter!" he shouted, hoping his mommy was awake so he could share the awesome news. He scanned the content of the letter with excitement.

"That's wonderful, dearie! Which school was it? Did you get Durmstrang like you wanted?" his grandmother hovered over him making him dodge the fat dripping off her spatula and onto the pink and yellow apron that covered her red satanic robes.

"No..." Harry lamented weakly. "I never did find out how to mail my letter to them. They don't seem to have an address, or even a postbox. And I don't know what country they're in either." he sighed sadly.

"Don't worry, kiddo. I'm sure Hogwarts is just as good." his mother leaned down and hugged him as soon as she entered the room. "It's the best school in Britain according to their newspaper."

"It's the only school in Britain, mom!" Harry said, rolling his eyes. Before he leaned into the hug, enjoying the feeling of being loved.

He didn't think he'd ever get tired of those wonderful gestures of affection his family loved to shower him with. The mental wounds from the Dursley's had never fully vanished, even if he was much happier than he had ever been before. And he wasn't sure they ever would.

"Well," his grandpa folded the newspaper close, and took a sip of his coffee before peering at him over the top of his round glasses, "you better hurry up and wake your brother then. You needs to eat you cows before we go shopping." he said with an amused smile, making Harry roll his eyes again.

"That was once, grandpa! We were just hungry, okay?! Sheesh!" he shook his head. You do one itty-bitty ritual with your anti-crist brother and gain his appetite for a day as a side effect, and they never let you forget!

He flushed red in embarrassment as they all laughed, even tho he knew it was just a bit of friendly teasing. He had to fight back a smile when his little brother came in and threw a tantrum that involved knives and a lot of cussing, as he had clearly overheard the entire thing. Harry picked up his own knife and joined in.

"Children, children! That's enough now!" grandma Mavis said, picking the knife out of Damien's hands before he could stab their uncle when he taunted them about the week they spent pretending to be vampires and refused to drink anything but blood. Harry had gotten so sick it wasn't even funny. He didn't have the unholy constitution of his baby-brother.

But holding down his uncle while his brother tried to stab him, that was funny! He really loved his little brother. Especially since he had never have one before. And Damien was weirdly protective of him too! his own, homicidal way.

"Come on. Dig in," Mavis said, placing down a tray of bacon that was almost as large as she was on the table. "We have a long day ahead of us, and a lot of shopping to do."

The family joked around and laughed with each-other around the breakfast table. And Harry felt the wonderful warmth of belonging somewhere spreading through him like hellfire as he watched them, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Okay, so according to your dad, the Leaky Cauldron should be around here...somewhere..." Sharon said, looking around in confusion.

"It's right there!" Harry said, pointing towards a decrepit looking pub. Well... It was a bit shabby, but that was hardly unusual for the cheaper pubs, really. Damien merely nodded as he headed towards it with his brother.

"Where is it?" Derek asked.

"Did I lock the front door? I should probably check." Mavis suddenly turned around with a confused look on her face.

"It's. Right. There!" Harry grabbed his grandma's hand and dragged her towards the bar, while Damien dragged their grandpa. His father merely chuckled in the background.

"It's the muggle-repelling charms." Richard quipped. "They have to be pulled in by someone with magic." He incinerated a random passerbyer, then reanimated the skeleton, making it drag Harry's useless uncle towards the door kicking and screaming. "Or a magical creature. That works too." As per usual, the rest of the muggles took one look at Richard and decided it was some kind of elaborate hoax, and if it wasn't, they sure as hell didn't want to become involved!

"Then how come I can see it?" Benny asked curiously, strolling towards it. "I'm no wizard."

"Who knows... Maybe you're half troll?" Richard suggested, staring intently at the short and stockily built young man with the unfortunate face. "Or dwarf. Could be part dwarf. Presuming you shave alot."

Everyone but Benny laughed at that. Benny merely grumbled.

As they entered the bar, everyone turned and stared. But the family was quite used to that, although they really did not see why. And people around here seemed to all dress in nice robes...if a bit dull or ugly. Not a proper satanic RED. But there was plenty of black robes about, and that was a good color too, of course.

It could be the reanimated skeleton, on second thought.

"Welcome," the barman said, his usual jolly voice shaking a bit, "to the Leaky Cauldron," he paused to scrutinize the odd assembly of people in front of him. There was something about them...

"Could it be...? Bless my soul... It's Harry Potter!" his voice, silent in it's awe as it was, still carried over the various voices, and caused a complete silence to permeate the room.

"It's Harry Ashendale, actually," Harry said. "And this is my mom, Sharon," the woman flipped her long back hair to the side and leaned onto the bar flirtatiously winking at him, allowing the barman an eyeful of her exceptionally deep and well-shaped cleavage.

"And my baby brother, Damien..."

"Hey!" Damien protested the label.

"And this is Grandma and Grandpa, and my Uncle Derek," he waved his hand towards them, and they waved at the barman, looking very much like a jolly normal couple...Robes aside.

Except Derek, whom looked like he had no clue his name was even mentioned and had a slightly dazed and vacant look on his face... as per usual.

"And that's my honorary uncle, Benny Goyle," *

Benny merely grunted out a response, but the strange looks given to him by various customers were not lost on him. Unlike Derek.

"And this is my daddy, Richard!" Harry beamed, the pride at his family evident in his voice as he pointed out each and every member.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Richard said with a dark chuckle, doing his best to project Cale...and failed miserably. The things he did for his son...

However, as he said this, the people whom had started to move in closer to see if it might really be Harry Potter decided to slowly back away -or suddenly remembered that they had something extremely important to do somewhere else. Preferably somewhere far, far away from the easily recognizable menace to society that went by the name Richard.

A few went to report him to the ministry, so they could be prepared. Not that you could arrest a Warlock, or even fight one. Not with all the Aurors in the world. And the ministry knew it. But with some luck they could apply to the Brotherhood of Darkness for a refund on any damage he did. Or at least 80% of it.

"Er...yes...well... You want to enter the Ally I presume?" the beads of sweat gathering on his forehead was easily mistaken for him working too hard. The fact that his hands were shaking, and wringing a towel...not so much.

Luckily, the DeVille's had grown insensitive to displays of fear. It was pair for the course with most people, really. Normal people just didn't know how to appreciate a warm, loving satanic family such as theirs.

Richard stared at the goblin. The goblin stared back.

Richard kept his unblinking gaze at him and the spear in the goblin's hand started to shake.

Richard stared some more, and a strange, unfamiliar whimper escaped the guard goblin of Gringots, but he stood his ground.

"Can I eat him?" Richard asked the family with a curious, innocent expression on his face...or the top half of it anyway.

"Daaaad!" Harry sighed. "We need the goblins alive! It's the only bank wizards have!" He sighed. He loved his dad, he really did, but sometimes he just forgot to be practical about things.

"Besides..." Grandma Mavis interjected, "Despite their height, I very much doubt they're children," she felt the edge of the spear, "or innocent." she added, and wiped the blood on her robes. The robes appeared to absorb it.

Richard poked the goblin's armor, and sighed.

"I suppose you're right."

"Don't worry, daddy. I'm pretty sure I saw a pet shop down the road. They're bound to have some puppies and kittens there." Harry said, patting his daddy's back.

This made Richard perk up, and the family entered Gringots without any more incidences. Not counting the crowd of people staring at the creature whom managed to make harden goblin warriors quake in their armor.

Said goblins was later seen drinking heavily in one of the bars in Knockturn, taking a formerly unheard of vacation. Apparently, even goblins could suffer from a nervous breakdown. Who knew?

"Richard," Bogdrod the Teller gave a small nod and watched Richard warily. He was an important client after all...even if he sometimes caused a few fatal 'accidents'.

"You need to hire grownups to guard the bank. The kid out there just about wet his pants at my joke," Richard said with an expression that could only be interpenetrated as amusement.

"Like wizards can tell the difference," Bogdrod snorted. "What's your business?" he asked the warlock, wondering if the bank might end up adding even more gold, or maybe a few irreplaceable artifacts to their collection. Preferably without any 'incidences' on the way to the vault.

He had no idea where the warlock found the heaps of treasure and he frankly didn't care. Gold was gold. And Richard's vault was bursting to the brim with all kinds of gold, jewelry, and even a few enchanted crowns, weapons and various other bits and bobs from his numerous quests and travels.

He'd even been nice enough to sell a few of the more interesting items to the Goblins themselves. Needless to say, he was a highly valued client.

"Oh... I just need to drop by my vault. And open a Trust Vault for my son, Harry." Richard grinned -or his eyebrows quipped up at least- as he grabbed Harry by the shoulders and lifted the kid in front of him to show him to the goblin.

"Hi~" Harry waved with his fingers. His long, black hair was parted at the middle to display a very prominent scar on his forehead as he stared up at the goblin. Could it be...?

"Follow me," Bogdrod said, as he waved for a different goblin to come over and man the till while he was away.

About one hour and one newly discovered Potter fortune later, the DeVille family exited the bank and left behind a few more workers whom seriously considered a vacation.

"Did I really need to get that big of a vault and move all my money there?" Harry asked grumpily.

It had looked like so much money in his original, small Potter vault. But once they had moved it, it looked like a puny little stack of coins in the middle of a huge freakin' cave. It didn't help that Richard's vault were the same cavernous size, and filled to the brim with all kinds of treasures, to the point that it required 3 goblins just to shut the door.

"Don't worry kiddo," his mom ruffled his hair. "You'll fill it up in no time once you start questing. I'm sure that's what Richard meant for."

"You can never have too much space for loot," Richard interjected, his arm halfway into his village-sized messenger-bag, trying to locate where he dropped the small mountain of Galleons he picked up.

Harry shook his head laughing. But he supposed his daddy was right. He peered into his own enchanted poach, a bit sad at the -comparatively speaking- small hill of galleons in there.

"Well then... Better get on with it."

"Okay, now... Does everyone have their tasks?" Sharon said, as she looked over her family.

"We'll get those books, don't you worry," Mavis said, pushing the coke-bottom glasses up her nose, before she grabbed her husband's arm and set off towards Flourish and Blotts.

"Pick up some of them quills if they have them too!" Sharon yelled after them.

"I'll get the brass scales and telescope. Can't be that hard to find," Benny shrugged and sauntered towards the potentially interesting stores that might happen to have the kids school supplies too.

"I'll get him his warlock robes!" Richard piped up, making Harry grin widely in glee. He had been begging for that all day.

"Don't forget his uniform!" Sharon yelled after them as they walked away.

"I'm getting his cauldron and all that stuff. You need a proper Witch to get a good cauldron!" Sharon said and nodded to herself.*

"Derek, you go to the ice-cream store and wait for us." She said as she took the Hand of Damien and got ready to set off.

"Hey! I can do important stuff too!" Derek said in a hurt voice.

"Er... Yes, well... Ya have a very important job. In fact... it's the most important job of all!" Sharon hurried to say.

"Ya gotta taste 'em all, so we know what flavors are good. Can't have Harry think magical ice-cream tastes bad, yeah?"

"Oh! Okay! I won't let you down, sis! I'll taste every single ice-cream they have!" Derek said as he shook his fist in determination and took off... in the wrong direction. Damien face-palmed.

"Derek! Wait! You forgot the money!" Sharon ran after her brother. Her useless, useless brother...

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said before Harry could even opened his mouth. He settled for nodding.

"Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hullo," said the boy, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yupp," Harry said.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice.

"Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Harry couldn't help but wonder how that boy could brag that long without pausing for air.

"Have you got your own broom?' the boy went on.

"Nope," said Harry, wondering what they needed a broom for. He was SO not spending his time sweeping! He hoped the kid just had some broom fetish, or he'd move to Russia and apply to Koldovstoretz!*

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"Nope," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

Harry gave him a Look that told the kid exactly how stupid he thought the question was. A faint blush dusted the other kid's cheek, but he quickly recovered.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?'

"I would have left already, but Durmstrang doesn't have a post address." Harry muttered under his breath. Draco, on the other hand, was too caught up in his own monologue to notice.

"Say, what's your surname?" Draco asked suddenly, after finishing an anecdote on the horrors of Hufflepuff, trying very hard to evaluate the boy next to him. He was really rather silent, and it wouldn't do for a Malfoy to befriend a mudblood, not even by accident.

"Ashendale." Harry said, beaming with pride, as he had just learned how his dad had legally adopted him that morning. Well... Signed and sealed by the minister anyway. Possibly under threat, but still...

"Ashendale... I haven't heard of a wizarding family by that name. You a mudblood then? You know...from muggles." Draco said, the disdain creeping into his voice.

"What?! NO!" Harry said, looking insulted. Muggles were 'normal' people like the Dursley's and the judgmental cristians he'd met, according to his father. He was nothing like them!

"My dad's a Warlock!" Harry said, beaming with pride.

His dad was way better than any stupid 'muggle' person! He was even better than a wizard! And his mom was Satan's mistress!

Although he wasn't entirely sure if she was a witch or a sorceress or some kind of human Succubi, so he decided not to mention her. It might only confuse the other boy, he didn't seem very bright.

"No way!" Draco said, the disbelief clear on his face -something that passed Harry by.

The fact that Draco shrank away in fear and cast a worried look around him was also missed by the dark-haired boy by. That was pair for the course whenever he met strangers.

Draco lowered his voice and leaned in towards him.

"Aren't they, y'know... Undead?" he stage-whispered. Harry suspected the boy was actually trying to be inconspicuous. He failed miserably.

There was no need to point out just how dark Warlocks were. The wizarding world hadn't seen one for centuries as far as Draco knew, but they still had a wicked bad reputation. Using only Dark* magic and Necromancy* and the likes.

Harry didn't deign to answer such an obvious question. He merely gave him a look that clearly stated 'Well, doh!'

"But if he's... Then how could he...?" Draco wasn't sure how to phrase that question in a polite manner. And when he thought about it, it seemed obvious. He must have fathered Harry through some kind of Dark, wicked, necromantic magic ritual or something! He nodded slowly to himself. Yes. That made perfect sense!

Draco's respect for the other kid had risen several notches... But he would reserve his opinion until he knew for sure. It wouldn't be the first time someone had tried to impress him by lying about something, and this just seemed...

"How's it going son?" Richard choose that very moment to stroll in the door. His pale skin, bony hands, and ever-present -if weak- smell of death and decay was unmistakable. Never mind his menacing voice.

"Dad!" Harry jumped off the stand excitedly, much to the dismay of the assistant who had been pinning up his robes.

"Can I have the acrumantula silk robe! And can you show her your robe? I want one just like yours!"

"Of course you can." Richard said, amusement clear in his voice as he ruffled his son's hair.

Draco didn't doubt anymore. And he suddenly wished his father was here, so he could discuss how to approach this new problem.

A Warlock's son would be a great ally! But they didn't follow regular Wizarding etiquette. They didn't seem to follow any etiquette. Or rules. Or laws. They didn't need to!

But then... how would he know what would insulted him? Draco paled at the thought of it. Or rather, the possible consequences. His father was an amazing, powerful Wizard, but even Voldemort would have had trouble if he run afoul a real Warlock.

Dumbledore might hold the title of Chief Warlock, but there hadn't honestly been a real Warlock in that position for hundreds of years. The last one had gotten tired of the squabbles of wizards and set out on his own in 1544,* leaving the wizards to fight over the power vacuum the lack of a clear-cut ruler had left behind.

Draco's father always claimed that was why the ministry was such a mess now. There was nobody who held enough power to properly rule the country and keep all the lesser races in their place. Their best hope was really the Dark Lord, he was the only Wizard powerful enough to rule everyone else. At least according to his father.

As Draco was plotting how to best befriend what could potentially become a great ally one day, Harry and Richard was driving Madam Malkins insane with their array of 'helpful' advice on how to create a Harry size Warlock robe for him.

Neither of them noticed the surprisingly large conjugation of Aurors that 'casually' leaned against the wall and whistled in an effort to appear...well...casual. Just in case there was any mishaps or fires that needed to be put out.

It would have worked better if it wasn't for the fact that there was four of them, all whistling the exact same tune.

On the bright side, this lead to them being discovered by a talent agent, and went on to form a musical quartet that quickly became a hit on the Wizarding Wireless, under the assumed name of Jimmy and the Wild Whistlers.

"So... Wand huh?" Richard said, stroking his chin in a sagely fashion, his other hand on his hip. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No wonder wizards are so weak," Harry muttered, "Can't do the simplest thing without a magical amplifier," he grumbled as he pushed open the door to the wand shop. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside.

He thanked Satan that his dad had decided to adopt him and teach him how to be strong. Just by looking around at the whole medieval theme park they had going around here made it clear that wizards never made the great leap out of the dark ages, and as for the the so-called 'newspapers' he'd read thus far...

One was clearly a gossip rag. The other one held the wildest conspiracy theories he had ever seen, even in movies or bad jokes. And while his dad pointed out that nobody had ever seen the creatures it spoke of, he said it was still more accurate in reporting the truth than the Daily Prophet. Which said more about of the latter than the former.

Harry looked around him. Thousands of boxes were piled up high, all the way to the ceiling. But he saw no sign of life.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice said, seemingly out of nowhere. An old man came from the shadows to stand before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hi," Harry said with what he hoped was a polite smile. He might not want a wand, but if he had to have one, he'd want the best. And this was supposedly the place to get it.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question.

"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr Ollivander moved closer to Harry.

Harry wondered if the man ever blinked. Those eyes were a bit creepy. Even by Harry's standards.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose, causing Harry to back up, just a little.

He also vaguely wondered when his dad had been here. Richard had never told Harry he even owned a wand, but -Harry suddenly realized- that must be how he knew that wands were so useless!

"And that's where …" Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands … Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do …" He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Richard.

Richard did not look happy. The way his bony arms were crossed and his skeletal foot tapping was never a good sign. But it was the Evil Glare that truly unsettled the normally fearless man, and made Olivander shrink backwards with an uncharacteristic meep.

"-I- have never bought a wand from you before! Nor has his mother." Richard said and came closer until his nose -or whatever he had under the cowl- was almost touching the old man's.

Olivander swallowed hard at the Warlock's glare.

", of course not! Eh-he-he-he... Just a joke. A joke!" Olivander held his hands up in surrender and let out a nervous laughter as be backed up slowly. He wondered what in the world was going on. He could have sworn that kid was Harry Potter! He looked just like his parents, and Olivander never forgot a face! And then there was the scar...

"Wand!" Olivander halfway shouted and quickly retreated into the dark recesses of his store, presumably to locate the right wand for his client... or have a stiff drink before dealing with the Warlock. 50/50.

Either way it took several minutes for the old man to come back out, this time with a small stack of boxes in his arms. Some of which looked rather dusty.

"Which arm is your wand arm?" Olivander asked, appearing a bit more relaxed, which might be a sign of the aforementioned drink involved.

"Er – well, I'm right-handed," said Harry, casting an uncertain glance at Richard. Sad Warlock, however, was absorbed in studying his own nails... or bony claws. Whatever you call them.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said,

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand."

"Of course, every once in a while we have used some more exotic and experimental material, but those are the ones we've found gives the best results for most wizards and witches." Olivander had by now gone to rummage through the boxes behind the counter.

Harry glared at the tape measurement that was currently measuring the distance between his nostrils. He was beginning to see why his dad disliked wizards so much.

He still remembered a lecture about 'over-complicated idiots who couldn't find their own ass using both hands,' and 'Useless inbreed morons that can't even do the dishes without their wand.'

Harry truly hoped his dad was exaggerating about the last one, but what he had see so far did not instill much confident in them...

Two hours, seventeen small explosions, and nearly every rare and unique wand in Olivander's store late, and Harry was no closer to finding a match.

"No. Nope. Definitely not!" Olivander said, grabbing the last wand from his hand, patting his eyebrows to put out the fire.

"Really? I thought it had a nice fwoosh feeling too it." He looked at his dad, who shook his head and he sighed as he handed back the holly and phoenix feather wand. It was the closest match yet, but he supposed they were right. It

"Don't worry! We'll find it! I haven't failed a customer yet!" the old man said nervously.

"Cherry wood, 13 and a half inch, unyielding with a dragon heart-string core,"he said as he handed him a fairly plain-looking wand of light wood.*

"Yes... I remember harvesting the cherry branch myself. Had a particularly nasty bowtruckle defending it, I recall. Anyone who got too close stood the risk of loosing an eye or two. Permanently."

Harry waved the wand without much hope, and was surprised by the far more controlled breath of fire escaping it, along with a roar like that of a dragon. It felt-

"Amazing..." he breathed, smiling underneath his new cowl. Olivander on the other hand had learned to stay out of the way by now.

"Yes, well..." Olivander looked slightly bemused and coughed. "Must be the dragon heart-string," he mussed, "Such a shame..." he muttered to himself.

"What is?" Richard asked, a curious look on his face.

"Oh. The dragon of course. I believe this heart-string came from an out of control Romanian Longhorn* that had gone on a rampage after it's former master; some Romanian dark lord calling themselves 'the devil' or 'the dragon' or something, had been killed. Unfortunately the dragon caused so much death and destruction after his demise that it simply had to be put down. Such a shame." Olivander shook his head sadly.

Richard just nodded in understanding. Dragons were such wonderful companions. He completely understand why the old man was sad that some goodie-two-shoe hero had stopped the undoubtedly wonderful and fun reign of chaos and destruction.

Harry just smiled. At least there was something special about his wand! Even if it was pretty common materials. He wondered if it made any difference, but quickly discarded the thought. He was special, and that was the only thing that mattered in the long run. Well... That, and the approval and love of his family, especially his father.

"Well, son. What do you think?" Richard stared at the serpents that were, for some reason, compeating for Harry's attention.

"Pick me!" "No, me!" "I'm prettier!" "I can kill with my bite!" "I'm more poisonous than him!"

"I don't know... Isn't snakes a bit..." he wrinkled his cowled up nose and Richard conceded. Snakes were a bit cliche.

"I want a bunny!" Harry suddenly declared, much to Richard's surprise.

"A...bunny," he deadpanned, glancing over to see his son stand in front of a cage filled with bunnies.

"That bunny!" he said, and pointed at an adorable black bunny with the most peculiar red eyes. Mind you, neither black fur nor red eyes were particularly uncommon in bunnies, but the colors rarely occurred together. It was usually the white albinos that had the red eyes.

Then again, this was a wizarding store, and it was no weirder than the green-furred one with purple eyes.

"Why?" Richard said, sounding exasperated. Really... How would his son instill fear in the common folks with a bunny?!

"Are. You. Kidding?!" he exclaimed. "Bunnies are Evil! Everyone knows that!" *

Richard merely sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was days like this he wondered if he had done something wrong raising him, or maybe it was his mother's fault.

"Very well..." he conceded. He wouldn't want to restrict his son by denying him something he wanted.

"At least tell me you've picked an appropriately Evil name for it."

"Voldemort!"* Harry grinned, causing a nearby customer to choke on his candy, and Richard to burst into maniacal laughter... Which in turn added the need to replace his underwear to said customers problems.

"That's my boy!" Richard said, as he pulled his son over to the register with the bunny. And, come to think of it, that two-bit hack of a Dark Lord -while not the best role model for true Evil- was at least very appropriate person to name a fluffy bunny after.

The confusion and mayhem it would cause when his son called for his pet was just an added bonus.

"Oh no..." he store clerk muttered as he saw them approach with the recognizable menace to society. 'Why, oh why did I not have it put down the second I saw what it did to those puppies?!' he lamented.

'Well...' he thought, 'On the bright side, if I don't say anything and the bunny behaves long enough... maybe we finally can get rid of that...that... Thing!'

Richard paid no attention to the sweating and and shaking of the store clerk as he paid for the bunny. That was pair for the course whenever he dealt with wizards. The heavy discount, on the other hand, made him a bit suspicious, but in the end he decided it must have been cause by the wizard wanted to stay on his good side. His reputation did precede him sometimes.

All in all, there was nothing suspicious about the bunny what-so-ever. It didn't even foam at the mouth...much. And rubbing it's little paws together with an evil look was totally normal -for a warlock pet- Right?

"Mom?" Harry looked at his mother, whom was currently sitting in front of the ice cream shop...alone.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, looking confused. He had expected to be the last one to show up, after all that trouble with finding his wand, not to mention having to be fitted for robes.

"Don't worry darlin', " she smiled and kissed his head, "My idiot brother went on and ate way to much ice cream, so they took him home to rest...along with ya new school stuff."

Sharon sighed. She could still hear his last, pain-filled whimpers as the family dragged him away.


She shook her head and looked at her little boy, wiping away a tear. He was all grown up now. Going to school and everythin'... She cleared her throat.

"So who's up for some ice cream?" She asked, and Harry's eyes lit up, like any child would.

"What flavors are there?!" he asked, almost bouncing. He'd see his family later. But for now... Ice-cream!

"Here you go son." Richard said and handed Harry a shovel. Harry stared at the shovel.

"This is...uh..." Harry tried to think of something nice to say. "...useful..."

"What is it?" Benny asked curiously.

"It's my pillaging shovel. You need a pillaging shovel!" Richard stated, then turned to grasp his son by the shoulders and pointed him at a nearby brick-wall.

"Now, go forth and pillage!" Richard said while giving Harry a mighty push...right into the wall. Harry shrieked, before moaning in pain as he hit the wall.

"Huh. I was sure that was the right one. Oh, well. Let's try again!" he grabbed his son's shoulders, pointing him at a different wall.

"Wait! Wait! Use Derek!" Harry rushed to say. "He..uh...always wanted to experience something new!"

"Oh, alrighty then." Richard said, before picking up a cluelessly smiling Derek by his shoulders.

The rest of the family making sure they stayed far enough away from the insane warlock to avoid his attention.

Half an hour, and one ambulance call later, and he finally hit the right brick wall with a very unhappy Benny. Luckily, his similarity with trolls came with the newly discovered bonus of being nearly impervious to bludgeoning damage.

"Welcome to the Pigwarts Express!" Richard stated with a grand gesture, his hand laying proudly around his son's shoulder."

"It's Hogwarts, dad." Harry said, slightly exasperated.

"Oh. Hogwarts." Richard scratched his head. Weird name. "Well, if you meet the pig, remember..."

"Hit it with my pillaging shovel until it stops moving, so I don't catch any of it's warts. I know! You told me like ten times already." Harry said, looking up at his dad with found exasperation on his face.

"I'll miss you." Harry said silently, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Richard leaned down to hug him.

"Just between the two of us; I'll miss you too kid." Richard said, making sure nobody else heard him. It would be bad for his reputation, and his Evil alignment.

Not that they needed too hear it. The big grin on Harry's face told them everything.

"Come to think of it... I have another gift for you!" Richard said, perking up. Before leaning close enough to whisper conspiratorially into his son's ear.

"Awesome!" Harry said, "I do what? The dark what?" then he nodded, "In five?!"

"Five," Richard nodded and walked off towards a dark corner, leaving Harry to be hugged and mollycoddled by the rest of his family.

Harry waved goodbye to his family as the train slowly departed from the station.

Once he could no longer see them, he sat back and held the red gemstone his daddy 'gifted' him with up to the light. It was really rather pretty, and it made him feel a lot safer, knowing his dad always watched out for him.

He smiled and let the gemstone fall back onto his chest. The necklace it hung on was a bit large for his small frame, but that was okay. Now he looked exactly like his daddy! Especially since he had put the miniature version of his daddy's robes on, and hadn't taken them off since.

Which could have lead to some minor hygiene issues, but thankfully Richard knew of a spell to clean his clothes without him having to take it off, which made his grandma Mavis extremely grateful to say the least.

He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. He could hardly wait to get to school and wreak havoc upon the unsuspecting population!

His following burst of mad laughter made the owner of a nest of red hair that had just poked his nose in the door rethink his decision and make a...tactical retreat... That is to say, run away as fast as his legs could carry him from the insane, robed figure in there that was clearly a new Dark Lord in the making!

And Ron Weasley would have nothing to do with someone who was so obviously headed straight for Slytherin! No sir-e!


*Benny, in the comic, doesn't ever seem to have a last name. I figured it would make sense if he was a squib from the Goyle family, or the child of one. He certainly look like them, just shorter. lol

*Sharon is NOT magical, fyi, she just dabbles in Satanic magic and calls herself a Satanic Witch. Possibly because she's read LaVey's book by the same name.

*Koldovstoretz - Russian school of magic. One that might actually have an accessible postal address, as opposed to Harry's first choice, Durmstrang whom nobody seem to know where is.

"Durmstrang concealed its whereabouts from plain sight. The institute was said to be in the far north of Europe."-Potterwiki

*I use the word Dark Magic the way the author has explained it to be; Magic that is harmful. (It is possible she meant magic created for the SOLE purpose of doing harm, but what she said was 'harmful spells'.)

But I will also use it for the Ministry Propaganda version by the prejudiced people later. (Like Ron) Because it is very clear that by J. K. Rowling's definition Bombarda and the Cutting Curse IS Dark magic, and yet they seem to learn it in school at some point.

Combined with the fact that Knockturn Ally even exists, Dark does NOT mean Illegal. But it seems to be used as a common umbrella-term for everything considered bad, immoral and illegal by people like Ron. (Who clearly doesn't understand the term.)

*I'm using the word Necromancy in the Harry Potter/D&D term here. Which pretty much pertains to animate corpses and the likes. (As opposed to the word's original meaning, which is to predict the future by means of the dead, or modern magic practices which is, to a large degree, honoring the dead and being guided by them.)

* "In 1544, Jarleth Hobart invited the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot to witness his demonstration of the Levitation Charm, but the demonstration was a failure because he was attempting flight, but the Levitation Charm was not a flight spell. Once Hobart realised the true nature of the Levitation Charm, he scheduled another demonstration, which went a lot better until as a grand finale he levitated off the Chief Warlock's hat, only for it to be revealed the Chief Warlock was also wearing a wig. Hobart survived the subsequent duel only by levitating the Chief's robes over his head and then making a break for it." -Potterwiki

I'm going by the theory that (because of the wig thing) this was a real Warlock- possibly one that wasn't properly Evil. But after that last display of disrespect, said Warlock had HAD it with Wizards and their idiocy, and decided to leave them to stew in their own misery.

And without a Powerful, unifying Leader, the Wizgamon ended up squabbling like small children (not uncommon in politics) and that's why the wizarding world is a gigantic mess and stuck in the 1500's while pandering to bossy muggleborns at the same time.

(C'm on. Xmass is a cristian hollyday. No way in HELL would Witches and Wizards celebrate that of their own free will. And Halloween is a mockery of anything remotely Witch-like, with roots in, again, cristianity. -although elements from an even older tradition DO exist. And why would they celebrate elements of a religion that is most famous for trying very hard to kill them?)

* "Dragon heartstrings produce wands with the most magic power, and which are capable of the most flamboyant spells. The dragon wand tends to be easiest to turn to the Dark Arts, though it will not incline that way of its own accord. It is also the most prone of the three cores to accidents, being somewhat temperamental."-Olivander

"Cherry wood often made a wand that possessed truly lethal power, whatever the core — though if paired with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind. (And in the hand of someone Chaotic Evil... well...)"-Olivander

* "Romanian Longhorn - Not only is this green dragon long, it's notably bulky and muscular, possessing horns that stick straight out. Longhorns prefer to first impale their prey, then roast them with their fire breath, making them daunting foes." (BBQ anyone?)

*By everyone I mean Anya from Buffy. lol


*A small nod to The Black Bunny and other bunnymort fanfics out there.



This fic will be updated slowly, as my inspiration for it doesn't come all too often, and I have 4 other fics I am currently working on. (And is considering a couple of other ideas that I have currently not posted.)

But don't worry. It will never die. It just may take a year between each update. lol

Until then... Have fun, enjoy, and watch out for things that goes 'Fwoosh'.