Chapter Text
27th July, 1991. Kingfisher Cottage, Somewhere in the Lake District.
Sirius collapses down on the sofa, tossing his feet up on Remus lap and yawns loudly, letting his head fall back against the cushions as he shuts his eyes. They’d spent the full moon last night exploring a new part of the Scottish Highlands, they ran for miles and miles before collapsing down next to a waterfall to sleep the rest of the night away but still, he feels too old to be awake that late.
“Ah, good night, boys?”
“Very,” Remus responds and Sirius opens his eyes to see Mary and Emmeline step down the last few stairs of the cottage’s spiral staircase and come over to join them. They had barely been back to their own flat since the end of their camping trip and Sirius wonders what excuses they’ll use to stay once Harry has gone to Hogwarts.
“Why are you up so early?” Sirius frowns, the girls never wake up to see them in the morning since they’ve had the Wolfsbane potion.
“You know what day it is?” Mary asks in return and Sirius frowns, trying to think through his fatigue.
Remus though, smiles. “Last saturday of July,” he says and Sirius’ eyes widen in realisation.
“Oh,” he says, “is he awake?”
“Not yet.” Emmeline shakes her head, “we haven’t told him when it arrives if you haven’t.”
Sirius shakes his head but he can’t help the smile that plays on his lips. Harry knows he is going to get the letter at some point over the next few weeks but he doesn’t know exactly when, which has had him sprinting down the stairs every morning when the Daily Prophet owl arrives, which - Sirius glances across to the old grandfather clock - will be arriving any minute.
As if cued by his thoughts, upstairs they hear the faint sound of an alarm clock ringing, followed by the soft creak of floorboards as somebody moves above them. Sirius smiles to himself as the sound of footsteps start down the stairs and he cranes his head back to see Harry appear at the bottom.
“Morning, Prongslet,” he says and to his credit, Harry only falters on the bottom step for a minute at them all sat there before pushing himself forward and drops down heavily in the armchair next to the fire, casting a quick glance towards the open kitchen window.
“How was Scotland?” he asks, his eyes lingering on Remus with his usual post full moon look of concern, “did you find anything cool?”
“We found a waterfall,” Remus says, “it was pretty impressive.”
“Go swimming in the moonlight?” Emmeline asks in a teasing tone that Sirius has become immune to over the years.
“As a matter of fact, we did,” he replies. She opens her mouth to say something no doubt inappropriate but Harry’s innocence is saved as two owls swoop down through the kitchen window. One drops a copy of the morning’s paper in Sirius’ lap before flying off and the other perches on the arm of Harry’s chair, a familiar envelope clutched in its beak.
Harry stares at the owl with wide eyes as though he can’t quite believe it's there and after a moment it gets impatient and drops down onto Harry’s knee, practically putting the envelope in his hand with a squark. Once Harry’s fingers close around the parchment it flaps its wings and takes off, soaring low over Harry’s head and back out of the open window.
“Well…” Sirius prompts when Harry still makes no move to open the letter and Harry looks up at him with a slight frown.
“How do they know which bedroom is mine?” he asks and Sirius falters. That was not what he thought Harry would say when he finally got his first Hogwarts letter.
Sirius shakes his head as he laughs. “I don’t know,” he says, “magic?”
Harry rolls his eyes at the non answer but turns back to the envelope in his hands and he pulls the seal open, tugging the parchment out from inside. He smiles as he reads the letter and Sirius swings his legs off Remus’ lap and heaves himself off of the sofa so he can perch on the arm of Harry’s chair, reading the familiar green cursive over his shoulder.
Dear Mr Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Harry turns to the second piece of parchment and reads down the list of supplies he needs. He seems to read through it several times before he looks up at Sirius with wide eyes.
“Can we go today?” he asks hopefully and Sirius reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.
“How about we get some breakfast first, hey?”
Mary makes waffles for breakfast and they sit together around the kitchen table. Although both Mary and Emmeline have to be at work they decide on going to Diagon Alley today anyway to start the school shopping despite how busy it’ll be, unable to deny an excited Harry. As Mary and Emmeline disappear back upstairs to get ready for their respective days and Sirius clears up from breakfast, Remus sits with Harry, helping him to write his reply to McGonagall.
Once Minerva flies off with Harry’s acceptance letter they look over the list of supplies needed.
“What do you wanna get first, kid?” Sirius asks, drying his hands on a tea towel as he comes over to the table.
“A wand,” Harry says predictably and Sirius smiles at his excitement.
“Then what?”
“Uh, books,” he says
“Good choice,” Remus says.
Sirius looks back down at the supplies list and frowns. “The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection,” he says, “I wonder who the new defence professor is.”
“Quirinus Quirrell,” Remus replies, “it was in the prophet this morning.”
Sirius squints as he tries to remember why that name sounds familiar. “Oh, he was in Ravenclaw, wasn’t he? A few years ahead of us?”
“Yeah, he was a seventh year prefect when we were in fourth,” Remus says. Him being a prefect is probably the exact reason why Sirius barely remembers him.
“Think he’ll last longer than the rest?” Sirius says.
“Nah, they never do.”
“Why won’t he last?” Harry asks.
“The jobs jinxed,” Remus tells him, leaning back in his chair as he stifles a yawn, “it has been since before we went to school. No Defence teacher has lasted longer than a year.”
“Why?”
Sirius shrugs. “Nobody knows. No matter how much they try, professors never start a second year.”
“Huh,” is all Harry says.
Sirius ruffles his hair. “Don’t get too attached is my advice,” he says, “now go get dressed so we can get going before the rush starts.”
It doesn’t take long for them all to be ready and Sirius pulls a bag of Galleons out of the study, hoping to avoid a time consuming trip to Gringotts. They floo through to the Leaky Cauldron and Tom’s face brightens as he looks from Sirius down to Harry.
“Mr Black, welcome! School shopping is it?” he asks and Sirius places a hand on Harry’s shoulder, guiding him through the hustle of a passing group of witches.
“It is Tom,” he replies, “busy already?”
Tom shakes his head. “Not too bad so far,” he says. “I wouldn’t hang around long though. Alright, Lupin?”
“Good to see you, Tom.” Remus nods.
Tom nods, his eyes still lingering on Harry like he’s not sure quite what to say to him eventually he settles on. “It’s an honour to see you again, Mr Potter.”
Harry gives that slightly awkward smile like he always does whenever someone recognises him. “Thanks,” he says, pressing closer to Sirius who squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. Tom has met Harry a handful of times when they’ve been passing through and every time his gaze lingers for an uncomfortably long time.
“We’ll see you later, Tom. We want to get to Ollivander’s before there’s a queue,” Remus says and Tom tears his eyes away from Harry long enough to nod.
“Of course, of course,” he says, “have a good day.”
Sirius steers Harry out of the back door and only when the door is closed and they’re staring at the old brick wall does Sirius let go of him to draw his wand. He knows that people are going to be looking for Harry with the world knowing he’d have just got his Hogwarts letter but Sirius still wants to draw him away and never have to deal with the people bowing at his feet.
He taps the bricks in the correct formation and when they spring apart he’s not surprised by the bustling busyness of Diagon Alley. Although shops have only opened five minutes ago, there’s already families rushing towards empty stores and Sirius is thankful that Ollivander’s will have less business than other shops. They duck straight inside the empty store, the bell ringing above their heads as they enter and the musty smell of dust on old wooden boxes hit Sirius’ nose.
“Ah,” says a quiet voice appearing out of the shadows in the back of the store. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” says Harry warily and Ollivander smiles as he approaches.
“I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter,” Ollivander says and Sirius wonders if the old man has gotten creepier in his old age or if Sirius has just forgotten how unsettled this shop made him feel. “You have your mothers eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand.” He hums to himself quietly. “Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.” Harry presses back into Sirius as Ollivander steps closer, his hands twitching like he’s going to reach for Harry's face but Ollivander doesn’t seem to notice their discomfort. “Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable, with a little more power and excellent for transfiguration. I do say your father favoured it. It really is the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”
Mr Ollivander does reach out now, his eyes glassy as he stares just above Harry’s eyeline. “And that’s where…”
Sirius tugs Harry backwards. “It is,” he says curtly and Ollivander’s hand falls away and he turns back towards the counter putting some distance between them.
“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he carries on, “thirteen and a half inches, yew. A powerful wand, very powerful and in the wrong hands…”
“I think we all know what hands it ended up in,” Remus says with a defensive edge to his voice and Ollivander’s grey eyes snap up as if noticing him and Sirius for the first time.
“Ah, Remus Lupin. Ten and a quarter inches. A cypress wand, nice and pliable with a unicorn hair core was it not?” he says.
Remus nods. “It is,” he says and Ollivander looks to Sirius and hums.
“Sirius Black… Ten inches of ebony, remarkable transfiguration powers as we know,” he says with a glint in his eyes that Sirius tries not to find unnerving, though he will admit it's impressive that he remembers every wand he’s ever sold.
Ollivander nods to himself and turns back to Harry. “Now, Mr Potter, let’s see. Which is your wand arm?”
“Erm, I’m right handed,” Harry says holding up his right hand and Ollivander nods, a tape measure springing up from the counter and starts measuring the length of Harry’s arm as Ollivander disappears back into the racks, pulling various boxes off of the shelves.
“We might be here a while,” Remus murmurs, eying the tenth box Ollivander adds to his stack and Sirius hums in agreement. When he was a child Ollivander had pulled four wands off the shelves but he got it in three. Remus steps back to sit on the spindly old chair by the door and Sirius leans back against the wall next to him as the tape measure jumps up to measure Harry’s face.
“Right, that will do,” Ollivander says and the tape measure crumples down to the floor as he comes back over, setting the stack of boxes on top of the counter, he hands Harry the first wand. “Try this one. Beachwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches, nice and flexible.”
Harry takes the wand but as he raises it to wave, Ollivander snatches it straight back and presses another one into his hand.
“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy.”
Sirius starts to wish he’d had another cup of coffee this morning, yawning into the back of his hand as Ollivander pulls down what must be the fiftieth wand from the shelf, muttering to himself about Harry being a tricky customer.
Harry twists around to look back at Sirius and Remus with a concerned look on his face. “Is this normal?” he hisses and Sirius grimaces.
“You’re doing fine,” he says as Remus nods.
“Just gotta find the right one.”
After nearly an hour Ollivander seems to hesitate over the pile of tried wands and slowly looks back up to Harry curiously.
“I wonder…” he murmurs, “I wonder.”
He doesn’t elaborate on what he’s wondering, just scurries right down to the back of the shop, hidden behind the shelves as he clatters about.
Harry looks back at them again uncertainly and Sirius gives him a reassuring smile as Ollivander comes back over, carefully lifting the lid off of the wandbox.
“Yes. Why not. An unusual combination,” Ollivander mutters as he holds it out to Harry. “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Nice and supple.”
Harry’s fingers close around the handle and when Ollivander doesn't immediately snatch it back he waves it slightly uncertainty. Vivid red and gold sparks shoot from the end, exploding like fireworks in the air, embers dancing and Sirius feels himself cheer in relief at Harry’s grin.
“Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well, how curious. How very curious,” Ollivander says, taking the wand back and wrapping the box in brown wrappings. “Curious. Curious.”
“Sorry,” Harry says with a frown, “but what’s curious?”
Ollivander’s eyes fix on Harry’s and Sirius’ feels the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end.
“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand,” he says, “It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… why, its brother gave you that scar.”
Sirius pushes himself forward off of the wall, half aware of Remus rising up next to him and they’re at Harry’s side in an instant but Ollivander is still talking.
“I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter. After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things. Terrible, yes. But great.”
“That’s enough,” Sirius’ voice cuts through the air like ice and Ollivander’s gaze snaps away from Harry to stare up at Sirius with a knowing look in his eyes that makes Sirius want to strangle him. For a moment, he thinks Ollivander is going to continue praising Voldemort’s magic before he turns back to the till.
“That’ll be seven galleons,” he says and Sirius hands the gold over without another word before drawing Harry and his new wand out of the shop.
“Well,” Remus says, aiming for cheerful but missing the mark, “that’s the most important thing done, what next?”
Harry doesn’t respond from where he’s staring down at the package in his hands with a vacant expression on his face.
Sirius mentally curses Ollivander in ever language he knows and reaches out to nudge Harry’s chin so he’ll meet his eyes.
“Hey, look. Ollivander is a little creepy, but he’s just talking about power,” he says, “Voldemort did not do great things, he did powerful things and that means nothing when it comes to you. Your wands may be similar but that does not mean you are, okay?”
Sirius wishes he believed his own words and that he wasn’t unnerved by this new revelation. First the parseltongue. Now this. That was two similarities too many for Sirius’ liking.
“And for the record,” Remus says, “it doesn’t matter what anyone says or believes your destiny to be. If you want nothing to do with these ‘great things’ people say is in your future then you’re allowed to have the most boring life possible.”
“Exactly, you can buy a farm and raise rare breeds of sheep and live your life as a muggle if you like,” Sirius adds and Harry gives him a bemused look, the worry slipping away.
“Why sheep?”
Sirius shrugs, “I don’t know, they seemed more boring than hippogriffs,” he says, “or goats. Now, do we wanna hit up Fortescue’s ice cream and then try for books or do we wanna head home?”
“It’s not even ten o’clock,” Harry says in a practical tone that sounds way too much like his father.
“There’s no time limit for ice cream,” Sirius scoffs and Harry grins.
“Lets get ice cream then,” he says and Sirius ruffles his hair, pushing him forwards.
“Atta boy.”