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  This chapter was edited by Gdiusx. Check his works on HP and ASOIAF, I highly recommend them.

  Sunday noon, 13th of June 1993,

  Leaky cauldron

  Harry woke up with a start at the fsh of heat in his room. Within a heartbeat, he was on his feet with wand in hand, yet he cursed his ck of foresight for keeping Gryffindor by the firepce instead of his bed. In the end, he needn’t have worried as the bemused face of a beautiful red and gold swan-like bird gazed at him from on top of the firepce.

  “Fawkes?”

  The phoenix trilled, and the boy instantly found himself easing, wariness melting away like snow under the summer sun. Even Ghost seemed to appreciate it, which further dropped Harry’s guard, but a part of him wondered if he was being put under thrall or something. The thought caused him to shake his head and gre at the bird.

  “Don’t do that!”

  Fawkes recoiled, song halting, head wilted as the bird stared sadly at Harry. The phoenix seemed to lose its lustre as it extended its leg where a message was tied, and Harry grimaced as he realised he had offended the fiery bird. A bark from the window heralded Hedwig’s arrival, with Fawkes trilling at his loyal owl piteously, and to Harry’s utter shock, Hedwig gred at him balefully as she consoled the golden bird with a wing.

  “Oh, come on! It was affecting my mind and–”

  A huff from inside his mind and the feeling of Ghost hiding his head between his paws had him thinking, Et tu, Ghost?

  Harry shook his head at Hedwig’s persistent barking and groaned, “Alright, I get it. Fawkes? I apologise for shouting at you. I loved your song, but…err.” He rubbed his brow, trying to think of something more to say, “Forgive me?”

  He couldn’t believe he was apologising to a bird, but Hedwig’s angry hoots and sharp pecks were not a welcome prospect. Harry felt bad for shouting at the phoenix, who had been more than helpful to him in all their prior encounters. The fming bird gazed at him for a moment before shaking its leg again, causing him to remember the letter. Untying it, the phoenix trilled again as it jumped on his shoulder, and Harry instantly knew he had been in the wrong for shouting at the bird.

  “Thanks, Fawkes.” Opening the letter, Harry had mixed feelings at seeing Dumbledore’s neat and elegant handwriting.

  Dear Harry,

  After a weeklong gruelling session in the ICW, I found myself arriving at my office this morning to not one, not two, not three, but seven different newspapers with your face on the front page.

  I will admit the first thought that came to my mind was, “Dear me, that is a most dapper and dashing entrance!” Credit where credit is due, your choice of attire was definitely excellent! But, I am most proud of you for finding it in your heart to reach out, see beyond a grudge, and mend fences. Well done, Harry.

  Now, I shall not waste your time with ptitudes or unnecessary questions. You have made it clear to me that you had no wish at all to return to your aunt and uncle’s house, and perhaps it was my fault for not taking your distaste as seriously as I should have. Nevertheless, what’s done is done, and I am now informing you that any protection Lily pced on you has since crumbled once you rejected that house as your home.

  I understand you have managed to secure Potter Manor as your own abode now, and I wish you the best in rebuilding it to its former glory or maybe even beyond. Regardless, I shall congratute you on your resourcefulness, cunning, bravery and loyalty to your new friends in securing what is rightfully yours. You have shown all the qualities we espouse here in Hogwarts, and I wish you a most fruitful summer, Harry.

  Don’t be a stranger; feel free to write to me if you have any questions or require aid in certain matters. You have shown me loyalty and respect when I failed to show you the same, for which I apologize.

  Remember, help is always given at Hogwarts, to those who ask for it.

  Yours sincerely,

  Albus Dumbledore.

  Harry frowned as he finished the letter, discarding it on his desk. On the one hand, he was gd the headmaster didn’t make a fuss about him not returning to the Dursleys; the fact that whatever protection he had was gone did not even faze him. On the other hand, Dumbledore’s offer of aid was extremely tempting - Harry could list a dozen things the esteemed sorcerer would be able to help with a wave of his hand, but did Harry want that?

  To be handed any freebies simply because the headmaster thought highly of him? While the aspiring lord would not deny any advantage given to him, he had to be wary of wasting such a precious favour on trivial problems he could handle on his own. Not to mention, taking Dumbledore’s offer would put Harry in his debt, and he would rather avoid owing too many favours.

  No, he would not seek aid from Albus Dumbledore, Harry decided. Perhaps if he had no other choice, but it would be beyond foolish to spurn such a powerful ally, and he hastened to pull out ink and parchment and walked to his desk. Once he had penned a suitably polite reply, he looked at Hedwig, only a trill from his shoulder reminded him of the phoenix’s presence.

  “Thanks, Fawkes,” he gently stroked the soft golden plumage as he tied the letter on its leg, “and sorry about earlier.”

  The gorgeous bird trilled brightly before erupting into fmes and disappearing, leaving a single feather on the ground behind. Harry was shocked; phoenixes were incredibly possessive of their feathers and tears, and the only known way to obtain them was if the phoenix felt generous.

  “Blimey, he’s really making me feel bad for my outburst now.” Harry stored the feather away before producing another roll of parchment. Might as well give his newest retainer her list of assignments.

  .

  .

  .

  Harry stretched as he left his room for breakfast, the newly inked list in hand. Passing by Chiara's room, he could hear the light breathing of her sleeping through the door. He tried to reach out through the bond, but whether because she was asleep or not in her werewolf form, it didn't work. Gently opening the door, he found the older girl sleeping on her bed, completely human.

  Pcing his list of assignments for her on the bedside table, Harry stared for a moment at the sleeping silver-haired girl before smiling ruefully. She was completely out of it; then again, Chiara did mention she gets exhausted the day after the full moon, even with the Wolfsbane. He was just gd she accepted his offer so readily, even if she dreaded speaking to Tom about it, but from the little he knew of the man, Harry was confident he would support his adopted daughter.

  He left her room as quietly as he entered and reminisced on their adventure. Much to Tom's relief, they arrived back at the Leaky an hour before dawn. After assuring the old man they were fine, he quickly showered before colpsing onto his bed for a deep sleep until his fiery guest arrived.

  Making his way down to the crowded common room, he ignored the many gnces thrown at him by the pub’s regurs. Looking for the owner, he found Tom at his usual spot by the bar.

  “Morning, Tom.” Harry slipped onto one of the stools, checking today's special, “is it too te for breakfast?”

  “More like afternoon, d.” Tom shook his head in exasperation. “I'll whip you something up, don't you worry.”

  Harry grinned at the old tavern owner and watched the other customers idly when Tom turned to the kitchen. He could hear plenty of whispers about him, with a couple of people holding the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly, and other papers he didn't recognise.

  “… Stole his home, they say.”

  “Protected a dy's honour.”

  “… Remember my own experience when…”

  And many more in the same vein. Remembering Dumbledore’s letter, Harry decided to check the article himself, but ter, as Tom returned with a tray of food that was a mix of breakfast and lunch. Brunch?

  “Thanks, Tom.” Harry made a ham and egg sandwich with pickled olives and cucumbers on the side while Tom moved to other customers. Finishing three more simir sandwiches, he moved on to a steak and kidney pie while washing it down with pumpkin juice.

  “Here you go, d.” Tom brought a pte of treacle tart, and Harry would never say no to his favourite dessert. “You seem to have made big waves in the ministry yesterday.”

  Harry swallowed his slice of pie quickly, “Just business. Any wave was from their end. Anyway, thanks for the meal, Tom.” He pushed himself from his seat but stopped before leaving. “Chiara will need to talk to you when she wakes up.”

  The tavern owner was confused but nodded genially. Harry made his way through the crowd, dodging a few of them who seemed to want to speak to him about the article, and hurried to Diagon Alley proper. He had a bit of shopping to do before his meeting with the Carrows.

  .

  .

  .

  It was a few hours ter when Harry entered the Magical Menagerie after depositing his purchases back in his room. There was no one to greet him, but he was too busy admiring the interior of the pce to care. Animals of all sorts and sizes were held in cages, from cats and kneazles to exotic birds and even snakes. He approached a specific orange cat with a squashed face as it stared at him unblinkingly, yet he could sense wariness from it. Now that he looked closely, all the animals seemed to quieten at his presence and look at Harry with wariness and deference. The sound of light footsteps from behind had him quirk his head.

  “Welcome to the menagerie. May I help you?” Harry turned around at the bndest tone he had ever heard.

  “Er, hello?” He looked at the strange girl; she was younger than him, with auburn hair and mismatched grey and blue eyes set on a round face. They stared at each other unblinkingly for over a minute, until Harry felt his lips stretching to a smirk as he squeezed the girl’s red cheeks. “You should be treating your customers better, you know.”

  “Please let go of my cheeks.” The girl's bnd tone made him ugh as he pinched her cheeks harder.

  “You must be Hestia, or is it Flora?” He let go of his distant cousin’s cheeks as he turned to the sound of people further inside the store.

  “Flora. How do you know?” The girl tilted her head sideways questioningly, causing him to smile.

  “Your mother mentioned you, and there aren’t that many adorable girls with two eyes of different colours.” It felt good speaking to a shorter and younger girl for once, and her features were slightly reminiscent of Arya, though she missed the mark on the long face and the personality.

  “I see. Father did mention he was expecting you earlier.” The hidden accusation caused him to ugh.

  “I was deyed, but mayhaps your father would be interested in the reason for my dey.”

  Before they could continue their banter, a door opened and the beautiful form of Rosalia Carrow entered the store and halted at the sight of them.

  “Harry! So good to see you again, luv. I see you’ve met my daughter, Hestia.”

  He turned to the younger girl, who had the decency to look away, but he still pinched her cheeks, this time harder. “Oh? Weren’t you Flora earlier?”

  Harry was honestly more surprised she managed to lie to him in the first pce, had he lowered his guard so much because she was younger than him?

  “Oh, is she at it again?” Rosie ughed as she approached them, giving him a motherly hug as he let go of Hestia and reciprocated the hug. He never knew he would enjoy hugs so much; Harry and Jon never got to enjoy such things. “She and her sister do enjoy pying that game. Go on then, Hestia. Tell your father that Harry is here.”

  The younger girl nodded as she rubbed her cheeks, giving him a baleful look as she ran along to the door her mother came from. Harry snickered at the girl’s indignant look, it looked more of a pout than anything.

  “Precocious little child, isn’t she?” Harry shook his head as Rosie giggled in reply. He looked around, expecting her sister to appear from the shadows. “So, where’s your other hellion?”

  “Flora is picking up ice cream from Florean’s parlour. More importantly, we were expecting you earlier, Harry. Is everything alright?”

  “All’s well, just lost track of time cleaning my house.”

  “Ah, that reminds me.” Rosie walked behind the counter and pulled up a copy of Witch Weekly. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you going to the ministry with Narcissa, of all people?”

  Harry Potter Debuts Most Stylishly

  By Era Evergreen

  The article showed a picture of him exiting the lift while grinning at the camera. Narcissa and Eleanor were visible behind him, as well as Rowle on the floor. There were a couple of more pictures, all focusing more on his attire and features rather than anything else, and he had to admit he looked most fashionable indeed.

  “Well?” The older woman tapped the wooden counter as she gazed at him, her smile turning stiff.

  Harry sighed inwardly, having forgotten about the petty rivalry between the two women. “I needed a chaperone for my outing in the ministry, and she did offer her help.”

  “You know I would have gdly helped you as well, luv.” Her voice was teasing, but he could detect a hint of vexation.

  “Well, you are certainly helping me lots here.” He grinned at the older woman, who eventually sighed fondly. “By the way, have you heard from the Weasleys tely? I did send Mr Weasley a letter or two, and he replied favourably, even inviting me for dinner, but I worry that things aren’t so well.”

  Rosie’s eyes drooped in sadness as her smile diminished from mencholy. “Arthur is a strong man, but I fear for Molly greatly. She is very expressive and bmes herself deeply for Ron’s death.”

  “Mrs Weasley has to know that she had nothing to do with it.” Harry insisted. The matronly woman had been kind to him, if not a bit too controlling. He did not wish her any ill or misery.

  “A mother will always bme herself for burying her child, it’s just how we are.” Rosie shrugged as she idly grabbed a strange furry creature scurrying past her and petted it in distraction. “I suggest taking Arthur up on his offer, I’m sure you would be able to bring Molly out of her funk.”

  Harry had no idea how he would be capable of doing that, but before he could reply, the doorbell rang.

  “Hullo, Mum. Florean’s was so busy! It’s like he was giving away free ice cream, which he was because of something that happened in the ministry, but still, it was soooo crowded.” The aggravated voice came from a young girl who looked exactly like Hestia except for the eyes. While Hestia’s right eye was grey and her left was blue, this girl’s was the opposite.

  “Flora, you came in just in time. Look who finally decided to visit.” Rosie hurried to grab the rge bags of ice cream from her daughter, and Harry followed at a sedate pace. Flora stared at him curiously, and unlike her sister, she had a much more expressive face with brighter eyes accompanied by a gentle smile.

  “Oh, hullo. You must be Harry Potter.”

  “In the flesh. Nice to meet you, Flora.” The girl smiled kindly at him, and Harry resisted the urge to pinch her cheeks, which were as round as her sister’s. Hestia might have been a cheeky brat, but Flora appeared to be the more polite of the two.

  “Why don’t you join us for dinner first, Harry? Reggie must have dragged Hestia into whatever he was working on, but I’m sure the promise of food will have them drop whatever they are doing.”

  It would be anathema for Harry to say no to free food, and he hurriedly agreed. He followed the mother and daughter, but not before Rosie waved her wand and a ‘Closed’ sign was stuck to the locked door. Further inside the store, Harry was led through another door into a cosy living room, and he spied a foyer through another entrance ending at a rge oak door.

  “I didn’t know you lived here.”

  “It’s better to live close to your animals in case they need attention. Besides, this saves us many expenses by living in the same building as the store. Come, Harry. Flora will keep you company while I make sure dinner is ready.” Rosie pced the bags of ice cream on the dining table before hurrying to the kitchens.

  “So, Harry Potter,” He turned to the teasing tone of the girl as she sat by the table, eying the ice cream for a second before shaking her head and gazing at him. “Mum said so many things about you that she must have been joking about half of them.”

  “Oh? Such as?” Harry joined her at the table with an amused smile. The girl was definitely different from her sister, as she gave him a more curious air to her sister’s silent mischief.

  “Well, we are enrolling in Hogwarts in September, and Mum says you have already had to beat away a troll and fight off a dark lord in your first year alone! Was that one of the tests Ron warned us about for the sorting?”

  Harry had to pinch himself to avoid ughing. He vaguely remembered Ron compining about Fred and George lying to him about the sorting, and he ter learned it was a tradition to never tell first-years how the sorting worked.

  “Oh, yeah, totally. I first had to pick a random ballot on what the test would be, but I ended up accidentally choosing two, so the school spontaneously created a troll and a dark lord for me to fight. Never fear; it was all within my capabilities, and I’m sure you would be able to pass any test as well.”

  “Oh, wow! You have to tell me more. What about fighting giant spiders and snakes?” From there, Harry entertained the more spirited of the Carrow twins of his adventures, and while he felt a tiny bit of guilt about his lie regarding the sorting, it was all in good fun.

  Eventually, the rest of the Carrow family arrived, with Reginald carrying Hestia in his arms as he deposited her beside her sister. “Good evening, Harry. I’m happy you managed to make it.”

  “Sorry for being te, Reginald.” Harry stood up to shake hands with the older man, whose attire looked to have been changed in a hurry, and he could detect the familiar scent of beasts on him.

  “I see you have met my daughters, I hope you take care of each other once you are in school.” The older man had a strange glint as he smiled at his daughters, and Harry detected mischief from Hestia while her sister looked confused. Apparently, the twins had not been equally blessed in wit, though that’s not entirely fair, as Flora might simply be more good-natured than her twin.

  “So long as they are in Gryffindor, I have no problems helping my adorable little cousins whenever they need to.”

  Reginald looked a bit stricken, yet the girls nodded as if he had just given them a command to be followed.

  “Oh, don’t be so morose, Reggie. The girls take after their mother more than you, so naturally, they will be in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin.” Rosie appeared with ptters of food floating behind her. Harry could smell roast beef, malrd and more. He was surprised by the knowing grin on the older woman’s face. “I heard plenty about your legendary appetite, Harry. Dig in.”

  They ate silently, Harry putting his full focus on eating with as much grace as he could possibly muster, while still practically inhaling the feast before him. The earlier meal in the Leaky was hours ago, and he was still feeling out of it from st night’s adventure. Harry wondered when the effects of the ritual would end, and he dearly wished he could consult someone knowledgeable about the matter.

  Eventually, they finished dinner and moved on to dessert. Fortescue’s ice cream was heavenly, and Harry wondered how it remained cold after so long set aside. From the small talk with the Carrows, he learned it was due to the charmed containers. After a while more, the two girls were drowsy, to which Rosie announced it was bedtime. Harry stared fondly as both girls protested that they weren’t sleepy, even as Hestia was half asleep in her chair. Their mother eventually coaxed them to their bedrooms, while Reginald motioned for him to follow into another room so they could finally begin their business.

  .

  .

  .

  “That’s it? This venom is from a thousand-year-old Basilisk!”

  “You have to understand, Harry. Such a venom is so potent that it could not even be used for potions. Its only practical use is for pesticides against magical vermin, and it has been over a century since Basilisk rearing was outwed in the Isles due to the dangers it imposed. Even if we start a new product, it would be limited by the amount of venom we have.” Reginald Carrow smiled apologetically from his position behind the desk. They had been negotiating over the past hour over the Basilisk parts that Harry did not need and hoped to profit from, but they had failed to make an impasse regarding the venom.

  “Then wouldn’t that mean selling it is illegal?”

  “Owning the venom is legal, even using it in potions is legal, but importing it is illegal, as well as raising the Basilisks themselves.” The older man shrugged, and Harry sighed about the ludicrousness of the magical w, all those loopholes were probably deliberately left by whoever owned the licence for that pesticide Reginald mentioned.

  “But that is still far too low, Reginald.” Harry shook his head at the amount he was offered. “Twenty Galleons a pint? That’s even less than Acromantu venom.”

  “Well, Acromantu venom has far more uses than Basilisk venom. One can be used for potions and many treatments, while the other is only good for destroying things.” Reginald shrugged, and Harry frowned in thought.

  “Let’s say we go with the pesticide route, how much venom do you need to create a batch of the stuff? Humour me, please.” He added hurriedly when he sensed the man would argue against it.

  Reginald rubbed his chin with a frown before vacating his desk for a nearby bookshelf. He tapped the books in sequence as he hummed for a minute until he managed to find the book he wanted. Grabbing an old dusty tome, the older man pced it on the desk before waving his wand, banishing away the dust. Opening the book at a specific section, he trailed his finger down to a potion titled, ‘Basilisk's Breath Pest Control.’

  “It's a good thing I bought this book cheap at an auction a decade ago when its owner lost hope of ever getting Basilisk venom back into the market, with simir bans on Basilisk rearing implemented abroad. Now, let’s see the ingredients… It all seems reasonably cheap, as well as easy to brew. I can hire a Potioneer to do it for me, as I couldn’t be bothered to stare at a boiling pot for hours at a time.” Reginald seemed to speak more to himself than anything, and Harry was again reminded of the inherent ziness of wizards when it came to boring and repetitive tasks. He wondered if most of them simply did not have a strong enough attention span to care about the matter.

  “The venom portion, Reginald?”

  “Ah, here we are.” The businessman perked up at his question. “It says for a batch of ten vials of the potion, a single drop is all that is needed of the venom. Age is not relevant, as Basilisk venom remains as potent whether the snake was a year old or a hundred.” Reginald turned to him with a greedy glint in his eyes that Harry easily mirrored. “How much venom did you say you have?”

  It took him a moment to calcute the amount he found in the venom sac, as well as how much he could squeeze from the many fangs the snake had, before he answered. “A little under ten gallons.”

  If the greed in Reginald’s blue eyes made them shine earlier, then now it was a bzing inferno of avarice, “How about we rework that deal of ours?”

  “Why, my dear cousin, I am certain we can reach an agreement.”

  From there, they spent the evening haggling and negotiating like fishwives in the market over every tiny detail. If Reginald thought he could py him for his age, he was sadly mistaken. Jon Snow had been forced to deal with stubborn wildlings who would rather die to the cold than feel cheated, not to mention striking a deal with the Iron Bank with nothing but his word as a guarantee. By midnight, they had made an agreement, with Harry providing the venom and receiving a fifth of the profits. Reginald would be doing almost all the legwork as well as the rebranding, marketing, and distribution for the potion, and Harry was starting to understand the wizard’s lethargy on certain matters that he couldn’t be bothered with.

  Nevertheless, Harry returned to the Leaky that night a happy d with the promise of a much richer future. It was a shame that the Basilisk hide wasn’t as valuable as he thought it would be, as it was barely any better than the more common dragon hide and harder to work with. Oh well, he might as well keep it to himself for the novelty of it.

  He frowned as a rat scurried past him once he opened the archway to the pub. Shrugging carelessly, he flicked his trusty wand along his fingers as he made his way to his room, greeting Tom and Chiara along the way. Once Harry was in the comfort of his room, he yawned mightily as his eyes fell on Dumbledore's letter on the ground. He could have sworn he had left it on the desk, and Harry's eyes gzed as he found himself staring at the lines, ‘…any protection Lily pced on you has since crumbled…’, and he scowled. He did not need anyone’s protection, especially if the price for it was his freedom and being treated like a sve.

  Harry resolutely set the letter on fire with his wand. He stared at its embers and vowed to simply become strong enough that no threat would be too great for him to overcome.

  A*L*S*M

  Monday Morning, 14th of June,

  Somewhere in Scotnd.

  Old MacRonald travelled along his nds off the coast of the North Sea, tending to his herds. He had been tending sheep in these nds for over sixty years, just as his father did and his father before him. It was a shame none of his children wanted anything to do with the herds, preferring to go to the cities and try their luck with the urban life. Their loss, he reckoned. Once whatever new bubble they were living in bursted, they would come scurrying back to his rickety old house with their get and beg to get a pce to live.

  He chuckled as he whistled for one of his dogs, the Collie instantly knowing what he wanted as the smart girl ran after a wandering sheep, thinking it could survive jumping off the cliff. It was a shame that despite being so useful, sheep could be so dumb. He stretched his back as he turned to his lorry, he would need to fill it with his sheep for that auction down south in a week. Birmingham had some kind of festival st month, and they ended up butchering most of their sheep. Queer folks, those new foreigners that had moved in over the years, but that simply meant more business to him. He could do without the long drive, though.

  The old shepherd’s attention was grabbed by the excited barking of one of his other hounds. Shouldering his crook, he made his way through the treacherous rocks of the highnds to where his hound was barking by a nearby stream and halted at the massive bck shadow sprawled on the shore.

  At first, he thought it was a wolf or even a bear, but both had been extinct for hundreds of years! Upon further inspection, the shepherd found it was neither. Simply an overly massive dog that had not been fed well at all, with the shape of its bones visible under matted fur. The poor dog moaned pitifully as it looked at him with its big, sad grey eyes.

  “Puir dug, he looks like he's been through the wringer. Ah'm sure ye'd fancy a new hoose.”

  The dog tried to get up before colpsing from exhaustion, and Old MacRonald chuckled bemusedly. More company was always welcome, especially as he preferred some company on that long drive. Only, how would he drag the poor behemoth back to his home?

  Dumbledore catches up with Harry, who accidentally makes Fawkes sad. Hedwig will have a word with her human on how to treat guests.

  Harry is still hungry, and will his unending appetite ever be sated? Whether for food or profit, Harry desires more.

  Speaking of, we meet the Carrows again! Who missed them? My take on the Carrow twins will naturally be special; they are the closest cousins to Harry in the magical world. Naturally, Jon’s older brother vibes bled through, and before he knew it, two little sisters GET!

  Btw, I’d recommend converting gallons to drops and pints to gallons to get an idea of how much potential profit Harry is getting from that deal. I say potential because he won’t be seeing immediate profits in a long time. The Basilisk was most famous for its gre and its venom, with two full rows of fangs, each filled with venom, instead of the traditional two fangs of vipers. I have thus concluded that its sac would be a lot bigger than a regur snake, and considering its immense size, that sac would be even rger. Ten gallons, including the venom in the fangs, was my lowest estimate, but it's more than enough to help Harry and Reginald in their budding business.

  The rest of its parts aren’t that special imo. Dragonhide would always be superior to any other leather, in any fantasy setting at least. All the rest of the organs are for Harry to either consume or use in the ritual, so they weren’t even part of the deal.

  A surprise guest visit in the end, I wonder what the implications of that will be?