Story: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Rune
Chapter 2: Impressions
“Hogwarts, dear?” Madam Malkin when Harry walked in. “Got the lot here – another young man being fitted in back.”
In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing. A witch knelt to pin up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stood next to him, slipped a too long robe over his head, and began pinning it to the right length.
“Hello,” said the boy, “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” said Harry.
“My father is next door buying books and my mother is looking at wands,” said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. “I’m going to look at racing broom. I want one and I’m going to have it.” He looked up, seemingly interested for a moment, “Have you got your own broom?”
“No,” Harry said.
“Play Quidditch at all?”
“Not often,” he remembered playing with Sirius in Egypt several years ago.
“I play all the time. Father say’s I will make the house team. Do you know what house you’ll be in yet?”
“No,” Harry said. Sirius had left those things out saying that he’d go into the house he was meant to.
“Well, no one really knows until they get there, but I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – if I was in Hufflepuff I’d just leave.”
“Mmm,” Harry said noncommittally.
“I say look at those two,” the boy said nodding towards the window. Dawn and Sirius were dancing – waltzing – in the street. Dawn’s face was open and carefree, Sirius’s head was bent likely humming whatever tune they were dancing to.
Harry grinned, “yeah, they’ve been doing that for years.” He remembered one of the first times was when Dawn was pregnant with Jocelyn.
“They’re your parents?” the boy said snidely.
“They’re my guardians.”
“Where are your parents?”
“They were at least our
“They were a wizard and a witch, if that’s what you mean.”
“I don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They know nothing about wizards or Hogwarts until they receive their letters. It’s a waste. What’s your surname, anyway?”
“We’re done, my dear,” Madam Malkins said, ending the conversation Harry was rapidly disliking.
“I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said the drawling boy.
Harry stepped outside grinning at the dancing pair.
“That was quick,” Dawn commented.
“Where next?” Harry asked.
“Books,” she smiled pulling out of the waltz, “there’s a place called Flourish and Blotts just down the way.”
“You told her about the books?” he accused Sirius.
His godfather shook his head, “that’s McGonagall’s fault, not mine.”
“Oh, you two,” she pouted, “I haven’t a new spellbook in ages and Harry needs some…”
Sirius and Harry shared a look but followed Dawn into the book store.
By the time they made it to Ollivanders they had everything on Harry’s list, except a wand. Dawn had picked up several books and restocked her potion ingredients.
“Shoot,” she said as they reached Ollivanders, “I forgot to grab something. You two go in I’ll be right back.”
“If it’s another book I’m going to start limiting her library,” Sirius muttered as they walked into the wand shop. Dawn’s library barely fit in the downstairs den.
“Good afternoon,” a voice said. Mr. Ollivander appeared from between the shelves of wands. “Sirius Black ten and a half inches, oak, sturdy, heartstring of dragon.”
He looked at Harry then his large moon-like eyes examined the scar. “I sold the wand that di-”
“Sir, please,” Sirius said sternly.
“Of course,” the wandmaker said, “which is your wand hand?”
“My right hand.”
A pair of measuring tape started measuring Harry all around. When Ollivander finally called them off he was standing among the stacks. He handed Harry one. “Just give it a wave.”
Nothing. Ollivander went through two dozen wands before Dawn crept into the shop.
“I wonder,” he said softly pulling out another wand. He handed it to Harry. “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”
Immediately there was a strong wind and a wave of magic crashed through him.
“Curious,” Ollivander said, “indeed, most curious.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry frowned, “what is curious?”
“The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand, gave one other – just one. The wand gave you that scar,” he moved in close. “They say You-Know-Who did great things – terrible, but great. So what great things will you do Mr. Potter?”
Then the wandmaker looked toward Sirius. “Ah, how is the hair of the witch working?”
“Perfectly,” Dawn replied.
Harry paid and Mr. Ollivander bowed them out of the shop.
“Harry!” Jocelyn’s voice made him forget about the strangeness.
Hagrid was a few steps behind her with a cage. Inside was a beautiful snowy owl.
“She’ll need a name,” the giant said handing him the cage, “Happy birthday Harry.”
Harry was surprised when they returned home to find that Dawn had already managed to make a cake and get him a present.
“It’s a wand holder,” she explained after putting Jocelyn down. “Buffy’s favorite place for weapons was the back of her pants. With a cloak that doesn’t really work. So this allows you to keep your wand on you, but not have to fumble for it.”
He smiled, “brilliant.”
“I thought so,” she smirked. Then she got serious a moment and whispered. “I hope you don’t mind about Jocelyn’s cat, she’s just so upset about you leaving…”
“I know. How likely to anything that looks like your tiger?”
“Unlikely,” Sirius said. “We had to go to New York to see one.”
“You had questions,” the Key said.
“In the Wizarding world, I’m nearly as recognizable as you,” Sirius explained. “So to them we’re Sirius, Dawn, and Jocelyn Black. But to stay hidden and separate any searches, in the Muggle world we are the Summers.”
“Nobody knows me,” Dawn explained, “I’m no one in the Wizarding world. It’s kinda nice, like a vacation from either world when I choose.”
The days until the start of term were a rush of nervous energy. Dawn and Sirius had started packing stating something about checking out some land in Scotland. Jocelyn had named her cat Tara, after a witch from Dawn’s stories. Harry named his snowy owl Hedwig, from one of his books.
Dawn had read through his textbooks before starting on her books. “I like to learn,” she’d said when she returned them one night.
Things had remained normal for them. Harry and Dawn ran and trained in the morning. Harry and Jocelyn walked Padfoot in the afternoon. Dawn taught Jocelyn her letters. Sirius always had lunch waiting at 12:16 on the dot.
The morning of September 1st arrived to chaos as Dawn and Sirius double and triple checked that they and the children hadn’t forgotten anything. Harry was nervous as they drove to London. He wasn’t alone, Dawn looked as jittery as he felt.
Sirius seemed amused by them. As they unloaded Harry’s trunk, he volunteered to park the car. Dawn headed straight for the platforms.
“Nine… and ten,” she looked at the clock, “we’re cutting this way too close.”
They ended up next to a family of redheads between platforms nine and ten. There were twin boys, a curly haired one, a young lanky boy, and the mother with her daughter.
“Okay,” said the mother, “let’s go.”
The curly hair boy ran straight for the barrier. And disappeared.
“You next Fred.”
“I’m George,” the twin said. “Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother?”
“I’m sorry, George, dear.”
The twin smiled winningly, “Just kidding, I’m Fred.” He jogged towards the wall, followed by his grinning twin.
The woman looked up, “Oh, going to platform nine and three-quarters, dear?”
“Yes,” Dawn said, “my husband has been there but we’re running late.”
“Of course, dear,” the woman smiled. “Just head straight for the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Best take it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.” She gestured, “go on ahead.”
“Thank you,” Harry pushed his trolley and heard Dawn thank the woman as well. His eyes were wide open as he passed through the barrier. There sat a scarlet engine. A few dozen people milled around the platform some in Muggle clothes, others in robes.
“Amazing,” Dawn said as they walked to the middle of the train.
He stopped the cart. Dawn helped him heft the trunk onto the train.
“You stay with Hedwig,” she said to Jocelyn, “do not move from that spot.”
“Okay,” the girl said, looking around.
“Goodness Harry,” Dawn sighed, “What do you have in here?”
“Mine is lighter than yours,” he told her.
“Hey, I like books. I take them everywhere. They’re heavy, it’s not my fault.”
“Would you like some help?” a voice asked as they tried to maneuver the trunk into an empty compartment.
“Please,” Harry looked up to find one of the redheaded twins.
“Oy, Fred,” he called, “come help me with this.”
In quick time the twins had the trunk in the rack of the compartment.
“Thanks,” Harry brushed sweat from his forehead.
“What’s that?” George pointed at Harry’s scar.
“Blimey,” said Fred, “aren’t you-”
“Harry,” Dawn said, “we need to get back to Jocelyn.”
The twins gawked. Harry followed Dawn to the trolley. Sirius stood with his daughter. Jocelyn was crying as she hugged Harry.
“I don’t want you to go.”
“A few years and you’ll going to Hogwarts too,” he assured.
“There’s a thought I don’t need,” sighed Sirius, looking disturbed at the idea of his girl growing up.
“Oh you two are horrible,” Dawn said. “Harry, have fun. It’ll be great.”
Harry hugged her.
“ Harry Potter!
” said the voice of the redhead girl not far from them.
“I would have loved this kind of attention my first year,” Sirius smirked, “but I had to rely on my dashing looks and charm.”
“I’ll send you lots of letters,” he promised.
Sirius got in one hug before handing him Hedwig and ushering him onto the train. Harry made his way to the compartment his stuff was in. The train started moving and he looked out the window to see Dawn talking to Jocelyn, whose tearstained face was slowly breaking out in a big grin. Sirius was waving.
Then the train turned the corner.
The compartment door slid open and the youngest redheaded boy came in.
“Anyone sitting there?” he asked. “Everywhere is full.”
Harry gestured for him to sit.
“Ron Weasley,” the boy introduced himself. “Do you have the-” he pointed to Harry’s face.
Nodding Harry showed the lightening bolt scar.
Ron knew loads about the Wizarding world. He was youngest of six brothers. He had his older brothers’ robes, wand, and rat – Scabbers. His sister, Ginny, had been upset since she realized he’d be leaving for Hogwarts without her. They ate candy from the trolley. Harry explained how Jocelyn had hid in his trunk so that she could come with him.
“So Sirius Black got married when he went into hiding?” Ron asked.
“Yes,” Harry realized he should have asked Dawn what the world was to know.
“That was the woman with y--”
The compartment door slid open. A girl with bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth stood there, “Have you seen a toad? Neville’s lost one.” She asked in a bossy voice.
“No,” said Ron as Harry shook his head.
“Who are you?” Harry asked. One of the things he’d been trained for was to identify as many people in any situation. Know their strengths and weaknesses – it may just save your life. Dawn’s training with Jocelyn had started earlier that year.
“Hermione Granger,” she said.
“I’m Harry Potter. This is Ron Weasley.”
“I’ve read about you,” said Hermione focusing on the raven haired boy. “You were in several books about modern wizards, and the dark arts.”
“Those authors gave me too much credit,” he said having read them since Dawn told him about his fame. “Dawn has all of them edited to the truth. All manner of comments in the margins.”
“She writes in books?” the witch’s voice rose.
“She’s a linguist,” he explained, “sometimes the only was to get through dry historical text is to make it fun. Sirius says she’d edit her daughter’s children books if she set her mind to it.”
“That’s horrible,” she said, “I must go. Neville’s toad is somewhere on this train.” And she left.
“What’s her deal?” Ron asked.
A few moments later the door slid open to reveal the pale boy from the robes shop.
“Is it true than?” he said, “People are saying Harry Potter is in this compartment.”
“You just missed him,” Harry said. “You are…?”
Ron was too surprised to speak.
“Draco Malfoy,” the boy said, “this is Crabbe and Goyle,” he gestured to the boys on his sides. “Let’s go.”
“What’d you do that for?” Ron asked when the door closed.
“I don’t really like him,” he explained, “he made fun of Dawn and Sirius in Diagon Alley.”
“The Malfoys are pureblood. Draco’s father was a follower of You-Know-Who. Dad reckons he stayed out of Azkaban by telling everyone he was being controlled.”
“Do you play Quidditch?” Harry asked.
“I love it,” and for awhile they talked about the Wizarding sport.
The announcement they were arriving at Hogwarts sent Ron and Harry rushing to get into their black student robes.
When they disembarked Hagrid was calling together the first years.
“Hello Harry,” the giant greeted. “Firs’ years, this way.”
Potter,” a voice drawled behind him, “You’re going to regret doing that.”
Harry shrugged and dragged Ron into a boat with Hermione and a shy looking boy.
“This is Neville Longbottom,” Hermione said.
“You’re Harry Potter,” Neville stared at his scar.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Harry barely resisted the urge to cover his forehead. The boats took them across the lake to the castle. When the doors opened there was a stern looking woman, who could only be Professor McGonagall.
By the time the Great Hall doors opened the tension among the first years was tangible. They walked through the middle of the Hall between the four long tables that stretched for the length. He listened as Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryfinddor along with Neville Longbottom. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all safely ensconced in Slytherin.
“Potter, Harry,” McGonagall called.
The Great Hall went still. Then whispers started throughout. Harry felt himself move forward, everyone’s eyes on him. He sat on the stool and McGonagall put the Sorting Hat over his head.
“Ah,” a voice said in his ear, “I was wondering when I’d be seeing you. Where to put you… you’re courageous, you’re determined. You like to learn. There’s talent and a thirst to prove yourself…”
“Not Slytherin,” Harry whispered, “not Slytherin.”
“Not Slytherin? You could be great…” the Hat sighed, “if you’re sure…”
The Hall rang with applause as the Hat was lifted from his head. Harry walked proudly over to the Gryffindor table. He now had a clear view of the Head Table. In the center was Dumbledore, who he recognized from a card in his Chocolate Frog collection.
The feast distracted him until the Headmaster stood to tell them where on the school grounds was restricted.
He studied the rest of the table to see Professor Quirrell talking with a greasy haired man. The man had his crooked nose up and was glaring at Harry. Flashing pains through his scar, made Harry reach up to rub it. Just as quickly it was gone.
“Who’s that talking with Professor Quirrell?” Harry asked Ron’s curly haired brother, Percy.
“That’s Professor Snape,” Percy answered before returning to his conversation with Hermione about classes.
“It’s my pleasure to introduce three new additions to the teaching staff,” Dumbledore was saying. “Professor Quirrell will be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts. Our other two professors - ”
“Are right here,” said a voice from the door behind the Head Table. Harry couldn’t see the owner, but he recognized the voice.
“Blimey,” Ron said.
“Then allow me to introduce Professors Black,” the Headmaster continued. “Mr. Black will be teaching Muggle Studies. Mrs. Black will be teaching Ancient Runes.”
Harry wasn’t quite sure how to react. There stood Sirius and Dawn in teaching robes. Professors… at Hogwarts. Okay and onward... going to see what I can pull together with Year 3 but might as well post some of what I've edited of Year 1