LS&AB04
Is it just me, or does anyone else find the opening of Last Night on Earth, really catchy?
Title: Licorice Sticks and Aniseed Balls
Chapter Title: Phoenix Feather
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Chapter Summary: Eir takes Harry to Diagon Alley, and Harry meets Remus (again?).
Comments: Time-travel.
Previous Chapter
Chapter 4: Phoenix Feather
‘You look rather like a certain Miss Evans that Mr. Potter seems to have his eye on,’ Eir commented as they exited her chambers together. There was a speculative glint in her eye, and the newly dubbed Harry Blackmoon suddenly asked her, ‘Were you a Ravenclaw, by any chance?’
She laughed and grinned at him, nodding in answer to his question. ‘Certainly not Gryffindor material, though the Hat did consider putting me in Hufflepuff or Slytherin.’
‘Why Ravenclaw, then?’ Harry asked his new guardian-of-sorts, truly curious.
She looked down at him and smiled slightly. ‘Because I have an undying passion for research.’
‘Oh,’ was the only response that Harry had for that answer, and they walked on in silence.
Eir had brewed two simple potions the evening before: one to lengthen his hair, and the other so that he wouldn’t need his glasses any more. The end result had left him looking much more like - as Eir had already noted - his mother than his father, which was the general intention, though he didn’t look particularly like either of them at a first glance anymore.
‘Shall we be going?’ Eir asked, bringing Harry back down to earth. He met her eyes, smiled, nodded, and then followed her to the Great Hall.
-------
‘Diagon Alley!’
With a shout, Harry was spinning through emerald flames, past thousands of fireplaces, until he toppled out into the Leaky Cauldron and landed ceremoniously in a heap on the floor.
At the sound of stifled laughter, he looked up, and saw Eir looking at him with crinkles around her eyes, and one hand held over her mouth. Her eyes were dancing with amusement.
He glowered for a moment, and then got to his feet. Noticing the stares of the other customers, he figured that such entrances obviously weren’t as common in this time period as they were in his own. ‘Problem, Mr. Blackmoon?’ Eir asked.
He glared again, and hissed under his breath, ‘For once in my life, I would like to make a graceful entrance.’
Eir laughed again, hearing him, but this time she didn’t try to hide it, and Harry followed her out of the Leaky Cauldron in a grouch, still muttering furiously to himself.
It was only about an hour later when Harry found himself laden down with packages of various sizes, and struggling to keep up with Eir’s brisk pace as he stumbled towards Ollivander’s. His wand was the only thing that he had left to pick up for the new year at Hogwarts, except for his Potions ingredients, which Eir had insisted on getting last, while she picked up some supplies for a project she was working on - Harry didn’t ask what.
Dumping the packages on the spindly chair, he sighed in relief, experiencing a slight floating sensation. The bell above the door tinkled softly as the door swung itself shut.
Mr. Ollivander soon appeared from between the many wand-filled shelves, and Harry was pleased to realise that, this time, he didn’t jump. ‘You’re a little old to be a first-year,’ he said, in his usual creepy tone, ‘so that must mean you’ve lost or broken your first wand. No matter, no matter, it can’t have been as good as an Ollivander’s wand anyway…’
He trailed off as the measuring tapes dropped to the floor and he plucked a wand from its shelf. ‘Let’s see… Ebony and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches.’
Harry waved the wand, feeling nothing, and hoped desperately that he’d find new wand that wasn’t his old one, or else he didn’t know what would happen in his own time, unless, of course, Dumbledore had been correct in thinking that he was meant to change time.
‘No, no,’ the old wand-maker muttered, snatching the wand from his hand, and immediately replacing it with another - dragon heartstring and elder wood, twelve inches.
Again, the wand was quickly taken back, and soon enough, Harry was beginning to give up hope that there was, indeed, another wand in the shop that would match.
But it hardly mattered any more, anyway, because Ollivander approached with Harry’s old wand held lovingly in his hands. ‘Here, try this one,’ he said, ‘Holly and phoenix feather - unusual combination -, eleven inches.’
Harry winced slightly, unnoticeably, but took the wand gingerly and waved it, feeling the familiar rush of warmth through his veins, then smiled, relieved despite himself - even if there had been another wand for him, it wouldn’t have been the same, and he was rather fond of this one.
‘What did you say your name was?’ the wand-maker asked, taking a quill and a roll of parchment from his desk. Harry assumed that he was alerting Dumbledore to the fact that Fawkes’ second feather’s wand had been sold.
‘Harry Blackmoon,’ he answered.
‘Curious, curious…’ Ollivander muttered as Eir placed some money on the counter, but this time Harry didn’t bother asking why, and, after picking up his other purchases, left the shop.
He and Eir finally made their way towards the apothecary, taking their time, and Eir deemed it appropriate to remove some of the parcels from Harry’s pile and carry them herself, realising that the height of it was making it impossible for him to see.
‘Here we are,’ she said, unnecessarily, as they reached the small, dingy shop and entered. He heard a bell ring to the tune of Big Ben somewhere above the door, a feature which had been removed by the time he’d come here with Hagrid - Personally, Harry thought that it’d probably annoyed the shopkeeper a few too many times.
‘I noticed,’ Harry grumbled, setting down his pile again and rubbing at his stiff arms.
Eir sniffed. ‘No need to get all shirty about it, Blackmoon,’ she said in a mock-offended tone, and Harry half-grinned, thinking that he was coming to like the unpredictable Potions Mistress.
Handing him a list, she said, ‘These are the supplies you’ll need for the year. I need to get my own things now.’
He nodded, and blinked in surprise when, a moment later, she was over at the till, discussing whatever it was that Potions-enthusiasts discussed when they met.
‘Hogwarts?’ Harry heard a voice from behind him, and spun around in alarm.
The sandy-haired boy who’d spoken grinned apologetically, then said, ‘I haven’t seen you around; are you an exchange student?’
‘Kind of,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll be starting my seventh year.’
‘You’ll be in my year then,’ the boy said. ‘Hogwarts doesn’t usually accept exchanges, though - what’s the story?’
Harry grinned uneasily. ‘It’s… er… rather complicated,’ he said, hoping to avert his new year-mate away from this topic of conversation, and, surprisingly, it worked.
‘Aah,’ the boy said knowingly, ‘Say no more. What’s your name, anyway?’
This, Harry could answer, and he was glad of it - the boy seemed quite friendly, and Harry hadn’t been very companionable, just standing there umm-ing and er-ing. ‘Harry Blackmoon,’ he said, extending a hand.
The boy reached out and shook it. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ he said with an open and warm smile. ‘I’m Remus Lupin.’
Next Chapter
Title: Licorice Sticks and Aniseed Balls
Chapter Title: Phoenix Feather
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I disclaim.
Chapter Summary: Eir takes Harry to Diagon Alley, and Harry meets Remus (again?).
Comments: Time-travel.
Previous Chapter
Chapter 4: Phoenix Feather
‘You look rather like a certain Miss Evans that Mr. Potter seems to have his eye on,’ Eir commented as they exited her chambers together. There was a speculative glint in her eye, and the newly dubbed Harry Blackmoon suddenly asked her, ‘Were you a Ravenclaw, by any chance?’
She laughed and grinned at him, nodding in answer to his question. ‘Certainly not Gryffindor material, though the Hat did consider putting me in Hufflepuff or Slytherin.’
‘Why Ravenclaw, then?’ Harry asked his new guardian-of-sorts, truly curious.
She looked down at him and smiled slightly. ‘Because I have an undying passion for research.’
‘Oh,’ was the only response that Harry had for that answer, and they walked on in silence.
Eir had brewed two simple potions the evening before: one to lengthen his hair, and the other so that he wouldn’t need his glasses any more. The end result had left him looking much more like - as Eir had already noted - his mother than his father, which was the general intention, though he didn’t look particularly like either of them at a first glance anymore.
‘Shall we be going?’ Eir asked, bringing Harry back down to earth. He met her eyes, smiled, nodded, and then followed her to the Great Hall.
-------
‘Diagon Alley!’
With a shout, Harry was spinning through emerald flames, past thousands of fireplaces, until he toppled out into the Leaky Cauldron and landed ceremoniously in a heap on the floor.
At the sound of stifled laughter, he looked up, and saw Eir looking at him with crinkles around her eyes, and one hand held over her mouth. Her eyes were dancing with amusement.
He glowered for a moment, and then got to his feet. Noticing the stares of the other customers, he figured that such entrances obviously weren’t as common in this time period as they were in his own. ‘Problem, Mr. Blackmoon?’ Eir asked.
He glared again, and hissed under his breath, ‘For once in my life, I would like to make a graceful entrance.’
Eir laughed again, hearing him, but this time she didn’t try to hide it, and Harry followed her out of the Leaky Cauldron in a grouch, still muttering furiously to himself.
It was only about an hour later when Harry found himself laden down with packages of various sizes, and struggling to keep up with Eir’s brisk pace as he stumbled towards Ollivander’s. His wand was the only thing that he had left to pick up for the new year at Hogwarts, except for his Potions ingredients, which Eir had insisted on getting last, while she picked up some supplies for a project she was working on - Harry didn’t ask what.
Dumping the packages on the spindly chair, he sighed in relief, experiencing a slight floating sensation. The bell above the door tinkled softly as the door swung itself shut.
Mr. Ollivander soon appeared from between the many wand-filled shelves, and Harry was pleased to realise that, this time, he didn’t jump. ‘You’re a little old to be a first-year,’ he said, in his usual creepy tone, ‘so that must mean you’ve lost or broken your first wand. No matter, no matter, it can’t have been as good as an Ollivander’s wand anyway…’
He trailed off as the measuring tapes dropped to the floor and he plucked a wand from its shelf. ‘Let’s see… Ebony and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches.’
Harry waved the wand, feeling nothing, and hoped desperately that he’d find new wand that wasn’t his old one, or else he didn’t know what would happen in his own time, unless, of course, Dumbledore had been correct in thinking that he was meant to change time.
‘No, no,’ the old wand-maker muttered, snatching the wand from his hand, and immediately replacing it with another - dragon heartstring and elder wood, twelve inches.
Again, the wand was quickly taken back, and soon enough, Harry was beginning to give up hope that there was, indeed, another wand in the shop that would match.
But it hardly mattered any more, anyway, because Ollivander approached with Harry’s old wand held lovingly in his hands. ‘Here, try this one,’ he said, ‘Holly and phoenix feather - unusual combination -, eleven inches.’
Harry winced slightly, unnoticeably, but took the wand gingerly and waved it, feeling the familiar rush of warmth through his veins, then smiled, relieved despite himself - even if there had been another wand for him, it wouldn’t have been the same, and he was rather fond of this one.
‘What did you say your name was?’ the wand-maker asked, taking a quill and a roll of parchment from his desk. Harry assumed that he was alerting Dumbledore to the fact that Fawkes’ second feather’s wand had been sold.
‘Harry Blackmoon,’ he answered.
‘Curious, curious…’ Ollivander muttered as Eir placed some money on the counter, but this time Harry didn’t bother asking why, and, after picking up his other purchases, left the shop.
He and Eir finally made their way towards the apothecary, taking their time, and Eir deemed it appropriate to remove some of the parcels from Harry’s pile and carry them herself, realising that the height of it was making it impossible for him to see.
‘Here we are,’ she said, unnecessarily, as they reached the small, dingy shop and entered. He heard a bell ring to the tune of Big Ben somewhere above the door, a feature which had been removed by the time he’d come here with Hagrid - Personally, Harry thought that it’d probably annoyed the shopkeeper a few too many times.
‘I noticed,’ Harry grumbled, setting down his pile again and rubbing at his stiff arms.
Eir sniffed. ‘No need to get all shirty about it, Blackmoon,’ she said in a mock-offended tone, and Harry half-grinned, thinking that he was coming to like the unpredictable Potions Mistress.
Handing him a list, she said, ‘These are the supplies you’ll need for the year. I need to get my own things now.’
He nodded, and blinked in surprise when, a moment later, she was over at the till, discussing whatever it was that Potions-enthusiasts discussed when they met.
‘Hogwarts?’ Harry heard a voice from behind him, and spun around in alarm.
The sandy-haired boy who’d spoken grinned apologetically, then said, ‘I haven’t seen you around; are you an exchange student?’
‘Kind of,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll be starting my seventh year.’
‘You’ll be in my year then,’ the boy said. ‘Hogwarts doesn’t usually accept exchanges, though - what’s the story?’
Harry grinned uneasily. ‘It’s… er… rather complicated,’ he said, hoping to avert his new year-mate away from this topic of conversation, and, surprisingly, it worked.
‘Aah,’ the boy said knowingly, ‘Say no more. What’s your name, anyway?’
This, Harry could answer, and he was glad of it - the boy seemed quite friendly, and Harry hadn’t been very companionable, just standing there umm-ing and er-ing. ‘Harry Blackmoon,’ he said, extending a hand.
The boy reached out and shook it. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ he said with an open and warm smile. ‘I’m Remus Lupin.’
Next Chapter