Prologue
Discovering his Gift
Prologue Harry Potter and the Harem of Honeys
It was a normal day at the school, even if this boy was anything but normal. Of course, normal is a matter of perspective. To the other children around him, he was far from normal. If he were among his own kind, he would still be a tad unusual, but much closer to the so-called "norm". You see, this boy's name was Harry Potter, and he was a wizard by birth. Not that he himself knew anything about that...yet. His guardians, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, had carefully hidden all knowledge of magic, or anything that they consider outside the "norm", from him. Harry knew that 'things' happened around him but he didn't know what made those 'things' happen, yet.
Today, however, he would learn something about himself, and it would steer him away from the path that fate and a meddlesome old man had planned for this little boy. At this time, little Harry was only seven years old. His second year of primary school had just started, but already his overweight cousin Dudley and his gang of hooligans were making sure that Harry had no friends at all....
"There he goes! Get him!" yelled Dudley. His band of playground thugs were chasing that odd Potter boy. None of Dudley's friends knew why this particular boy was the focus of their leader's aggressions, and quite frankly they could care less. Dudley told them to beat him up, and that was fine with them. They liked beating up other kids, particularly ones who were smaller and weaker than themselves. That meant that Potter, a few other small boys, and virtually all the girls in their class were targeted for beatings.
"Hurry up! He's trying to hide by the dustbins!" shouted Dudley's second-in-command, Piers. Piers Polkiss was a rat-faced boy who happened to be the smallest member of the gang. Normally he would be a target, but Piers had that special quality that bullies the world over looked for in a henchman: Piers was a toady. He was mean and clever, which meant that he was able to avoid his beatings by encouraging the gang to beat up others. It was his self-made job to direct the mini- mountains he called his friends toward their targets. When targets were caught, Piers would hold their arms behind their backs while the bigger boys pounded on them until they got bored. In addition, Piers had the coward's gift of knowing when authority figures would appear, moments before they actually did. Piers kept the others out of trouble most of the time and was clever enough to talk them out of it on the rare occasions when they did get caught in the act.
Meanwhile, young Harry was running like the wind. He might not look it, with the oversized hand- me-down clothes he got from his oversized cousin and his lean frame, but Harry was very fast. Growing up in the Dursley household had forced him to develop superior reflexes. While he might not be strong, he was very fast. Right now he used that skill to evade the Dursley gang.
Rounding the corner that went behind the school, Harry saw the dustbins and decided to use them as cover. In fact he could probably hide on top of the large dumpster behind them, if he could just get there before the others reached him. With a desperate need to evade another beating in the front of his mind, he made a mighty leap while wishing to be out of their reach.
What happened next was a mystery, for he suddenly found himself on top of the school's roof. Now how the bloody hell had he managed to jump onto the roof? Maybe a gust of wind had caught
him, filling Dudley's old sweatshirt like the sails of a ship? No, that didn't make any sense. While his grades didn't reflect it (he was punished if his grades were better than Dudley's), Harry was a bright lad. The shirt could not have provided enough lift to raise him to the roof. Besides, he had move up against the prevailing winds. So how had he gotten up here?
Calming himself, he sat down and reviewed exactly what had led up to this unusual event. While he was at it, he began to ponder some of the other unusual events in his life. Suddenly he made a connection. Whenever he felt very strong emotions, whether it was fear, anger, anxiety, or what have you, strange things happened. The kind of things that were so un-Dursley-ish, he would receive extra harsh punishments which occasionally resulted in even more un-Dursley-ish things and occasional trips to the local casualty for the Dursleys. Somehow, some way, Harry was able to do things that no one else he knew could manage. Magical things.
"I need to test this," he said to himself. "If I can learn to use this...power...at will, I'll be free of Dudley and his gang." So young Harry sat down on that roof, skipped his classes, and began to focus on his feelings. After all, the first step would be to purposefully draw out an extreme emotion, then use it to do something magical intentionally rather than accidentally.
Sinking into a rough meditative state, he started to work himself up by thinking about how his aunt and uncle would react to his being caught up on the roof. Memories of past beatings and punishments made it rather easy to work himself into a panic. Just as his fears reached their peak, he felt something...different. There was a strange tingling down his spine, like something was waiting to happen.
Quickly he seized upon that feeling and said, "I wish I was on the ground!" There was a soft pop! sound and Harry found himself sitting in the exact same position he had been in on the roof, only now he was seated on the grass beneath an oak tree on the playground. "YES!" crowed the young wizard.
"How did you do that?" Harry jumped up to find a girl about his age sitting in the branches of the oak tree. "You just appeared out of nowhere!" Looking closely, Harry saw that the young girl showed signs of the gang's attentions. She had a black eye, a split lip, and her dress was torn.
"Actually, I came from the roof. I was hiding from them," he declared, letting her know that they shared tormenters. "I just figured out how to do that...thing. I 'popped' from the roof to here."
"Wicked!" she enthused. "Can you teach me to do it?"
"I don't know. I just figured out that I've been able to do stuff like that for years. Only I never realized it was me who was doing all the strange stuff. But today it all sort of connected in my head."
"Oh," she sighed. "Well, maybe I can help you to learn to do it better!" She climbed down from the tree. "My name is Marie. Marie Caldwell."
"I'm Harry. Harry Potter," he replied.
Little did anybody know, but that was the moment that young Harry's destiny hit a bump in the road. This wasn't just a little bump, either. It was more like a bump on a mountain road, that launches your car off the road and down the side of the mountain. Both paths get you to the bottom, but the routes get you there in entirely different conditions.
Young Harry should have crashed down the side of that mountain, reaching the bottom as a fiery wreck. That bump in the road, however, enabled him to bounce back onto the road and coast down
the mountain in style. When he finally rejoined his world - the wizarding world - he would be far different than fate had intended....
Chapter 2
Harry Potter and the Harem of Honeys Chapter One
The Letter
Fate had planned a very different childhood for Harry Potter, but that path had long since passed. Instead of a lonely, downtrodden child, the eight-year-old boy had an abundance of close friends. Not many people living on Privet Drive took note of the fact that every single one of his friends was female. A year ago, when his cousin Dudley had formed a gang of thugs, Harry had prevented them from bullying the local girls. His efforts made him the head of an all-girl (except for Harry) gang that was many times larger than Dudley's. From that day forth, nearly every girl in the local school - and thus the neighborhood - looked to Harry for friendship and protection.
Friendship soon led to other things, as the older girls in his gang learned to kiss with Harry. He became the target of their emerging feminine wiles, and he soon learned enough to gently guide his many friends through their new emotions. His ability to accept without judgment earned their absolute trust and devotion.
Chubby or thin, beautiful or plain...he treated them all the same. From Harry, his girls learned to be comfortable with themselves, and that eventually led to their possessing considerable self confidence. What neither Harry nor the girls knew was that Harry's emerging magic was aiding him in helping each of the girls change and grow. His power ensured that they would grow and evolve in ways that would refine their natural beauty, sharpen their young minds, and bring them strength that otherwise might never have become theirs. Eventually this would lead to their giving birth to magical offspring, despite their non-magical natures. Harry's magic would, in fact, slowly change them all into something never before seen in the wizarding world - Muggle-born Squibs.
But that was the future. In the present, young Harry had over a dozen girlfriends whose ages ranged from eight to sixteen. They taught him (and one another) everything that they knew about their gender. They also shared any and all skills they possessed, including the dance, yoga, karate, meditation, and other lessons that the various girls were taking.
The girls shared him as "communal property", told him every secret, and shared every treat they received from their own parents. Young Harry was the beneficiary of dozens of allowances, birthday parties, and gifts from grandparents. The girls fixed his hand-me-down wardrobe, got him new glasses when needed, and ensured that he was properly fed for a change.
In return for all of that, he was their knight in shining armor. He placed himself between his girls and any of the local bullies, Dudley and his gang being the worst of the bunch. Using their teachings, especially the meditative aspects of yoga and some eastern religions, he slowly developed control over his magic beyond fighting. This, too, was turned to the girls' benefit. With it he could fix broken possessions, heal injuries, ease cramps, and take them on wonderful childhood adventures.
Despite slander from his aunt and uncle, the parents of Harry's girls all adored their respective daughters' "little boyfriend". Possibly because he was very respectful, or perhaps because the children were too young to have "those" types of feelings or were so much older than Harry, they felt comfortable allowing their girls to associate with the Potter lad. Of course, the fact that the "herd" of young girls and Harry would move from house to house doing each girl's chores had something to do with it. (You'd be amazed at how fast fifteen children and young adults could rake and clean a yard. Or clean a house.)
Harry's aunt and uncle had learned to let him have his freedom during the summer breaks. If they tried to keep him locked up at home, the horde of girls would soon descend upon Number Four, Privet Drive, demanding the return of their playmate. They didn't like it, but so many girls drew far too much attention to them for the old habit of abusing their nephew to be able to continue. Then there was the fact that hitting him landed you in the wall. Thus they now preferred that Harry spend as much time away from their house as possible.
Luckily for them, Harry and the girls had claimed the local park as their "territory". Woe betide any child or teen who disobeyed their rules for said "turf". That park was the cleanest, tidiest children's playground in all of London. It was also the safest, due to the magical wards and protections that Harry had placed there intentionally but all unknowing until it was done. No bullies felt comfortable in that park, and no dangerous animals would go near it. The Dursleys absolutely hated the place. Oddly enough, snakes found it to be a haven, and not a one ever so much as hissed at one of the children who played there.
On a fateful day in July, shortly before Harry's eighth birthday, he was checking the mail before leaving the Dursley house. There was a post card from Vernon's sister, Marge, and an advertisement for something Harry couldn't be bothered with. The final piece of post caught his attention, however, since it was addressed to him. That was not unheard of, since the girls usually sent him birthday and Christmas cards. Seeing it was a bit early for his birthday, and the letter was written on heavy parchment, he considered this letter to be unusual. Also, when he touched it he could feel that tingle that he had come to associate with his magic.
Since he shared everything with his herd of girlfriends, it was only natural that he brought the strange letter with him to the park. When he arrived there were already over fifteen girls present setting up blankets, coolers, and picnic baskets in the shade of several large trees. He spotted a few others cleaning up the night's accumulation of litter to be deposited in the dustbins. (They maintained a very tidy park, after all.)
"Hello, Harry!" greeted the girls.
"Good morning, my beautiful friends," he greeted back. "I got something strange in the post today. Did any of you send me this letter?" He held it up, showing the heavy parchment, then turned it to show the odd wax seal on the back. The wax was purple, and the seal was a stylized capital G.
"I've seen one of those before." They all turned to see who had spoken. Though female, the voice was not one that they were familiar with. Coming up behind them were Harry's first friend, Marie, and an older girl who looked enough like her to be family. They both had light brown hair and bright blue eyes. It was the older girl who had spoken. "Marie, is this the boy you wanted me to meet? Your little boyfriend?"
"That would be me," grinned Harry, surprising the older girl by failing to blush. "Harry, this is my cousin, Ella. Ella, this is our boyfriend, Harry Potter," replied Marie.
"Harry...Potter?" gasped Ella. "You're really Harry Potter? And you have the...the scar?" she squealed in delight. When Harry lifted his bangs to reveal the odd lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, Ella nearly swooned. "Oh. My. God. I'm talking to Harry Potter!"
"Are you alright, Ella?" asked Harry.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm fine. I just can't believe that when Marie told me she had a friend named Harry, he would turn out to be THE Harry Potter! I'm going to go to Hogwarts with Harry Potter! My cousin is his girlfriend!"
"Hogwarts?" "What's Hogwarts?" "Did she say Hogwarts?" the girls began to ask each other.
"Oh no! I'm not supposed to mention Hogwarts or magic to Muggles!" gasped Ella.
"Muggles?" asked several girls.
"Don't worry, Ella," soothed her cousin. "We all know about Harry's powers. We've been helping him develop his...magic...for years now."
"You can already do magic?" asked Ella. "You're not supposed to do magic outside of school! They'll kick you out of school and break your wand!"
"Not to worry, then!" grinned Harry. "I don't have a wand to break. Besides, I've only learned to do little things, like healing, teleporting, and levitating things." Ella looked, if anything, even more shocked. "Ella, try to calm down. Now, what can you tell me about this Hogwarts, my letter, and - I believe you said the word Muggles?" He took her hand, and she blushed.
"Okay," she said, "let me see. I suppose I should start with my Hogwarts letter. I received my first letter when I was eleven years old. The letter was from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a school where young witches and wizards go to learn how to perform magic. We have classes in things like Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Magic folk have a whole world that is kept secret from non-magic folk, who we call Muggles. I'm a going to be a third year student there now."
"So do non-magical people have magical children?" asked one of the girls, named Amber. She was a nine-year-old with blond hair and light brown eyes. "Because we've all met Harry's family, and if they have magic I'll eat my shoes!"
"Well, there are Muggle-born witches and wizards, but Harry's parents were magical," argued Ella. "Everyone in our world knows about Harry Potter! You're really famous, Harry!"
"I am? Why?" he asked.
"Because you're the other Boy-Who-Lived!" At their blank looks, she added to her story. "Almost ten years ago, back when you were still a baby, there was an evil wizard. He delved deeply into the Dark Arts and was recruiting followers. He claimed that Muggles and Muggle-born folk were beneath the so-called pure-blood families, and he started killing off Muggle-borns. For some reason he came to the house of a friend of your parents on Halloween, determined to kill them too. The story goes that he killed your father and mother, but when he tried to kill you and Neville Longbottom his magic was turned against him. He was destroyed, and you got that scar. Dumbledore says Neville is the chosen one and the one who defeated him, but everyone knows you were there too and you've never been seen again. I think you are the chosen one. Longbottom is a little snot. I've met him in Diagon Alley."
"And I'm famous for that?" wondered Harry.
"You have to understand, those were dark days, Harry. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was very powerful back then, and he was winning the war. Good witches and wizards were dying every day. Before you, no one lived after he decided they would die. Because of you - well, maybe your parents or Neville - he was defeated and the war was won."
"Well, were my parents both...Muggle-born?" he asked.
"Your mother was Muggle-born, but not your father. The Potters are a very old, pure-blood wizarding family. From what I understand they were a very wealthy family too. In fact, I bet you
have a ton of gold in Gringotts!" At his confused look she added, "It's the wizards' bank. Run by Goblins, it is!"
"Well, thanks for telling me this, Ella. I'm guessing from what you said earlier that all of this should be kept secret from Muggles?" She nodded enthusiastically. "Tell me, are there ever any non-magical children born to magical families? I mean, if it goes one way, it should also go the other."
"Oh yes! When a witch gives birth to a non-magical child, it's called a Squib. Squibs can see through magical illusions and can use magical devices. Usually they don't have enough magic to do spells and such, though I've heard that they can get jobs as Potions brewers, herbologists, and working with some magical creatures. The school's caretaker, Mr. Filch, is a Squib. Oh, and the groundskeeper doesn't do magic either...but between you and me, I think Hagrid's part ogre or giant or something. He's huge!"
"That's interesting. So Muggles can't see most magic? Because my girls here couldn't see some of the barriers at first. I managed to "change" them over time, though, and now they can see some of the wards I created. I think I made them into Squibs instead of Muggles."
"If that's the case, then I won't get into trouble for telling you all about our world. Just don't tell anybody else! You realize that if you're all Squibs now, your children will probably be magical?"
"Really?" "Wicked!" muttered the girls. Harry continued, "Now, about this letter?"
Ella took the letter from Harry and looked at it. "Dad gets these. It's a bank statement from Gringotts bank."
Harry took the letter back and eyed it speculatively. "Well, now that you've explained a bit, let me read my letter. Don't worry, girls! I'll let each of you read it too." Harry broke the seal and began to read his letter. Just as Ella had claimed, it was a bank statement. Harry had a lot of Galleons, whatever they were. The bank apparently had some questions he needed to answer and asked him to either owl or come to the bank.
"This bank of yours," he asked Ella, "does it give a different letter to Muggle-borns? Because this doesn't really help me all that much. How can I send an owl - a real, live owl?"
"Let me see that." Ella read his letter. "Nope, this is the same letter that Dad receives, except this part about an owl or coming to the bank. We do have an account manager, though."
"Well, I guess since both my parents were magical I didn't rate the personal touch. I guess they forgot I was raised as a Muggle-born. So you mentioned a place called Diagon Alley. How do I get there?"
"Well, magic folk can just Apparate there, if they have a license. It's kind of like driving a car...first you have to be old enough and take a test, then you can do it. They also have a system using fireplaces, called the Floo Network, but to use it you need Floo powder and a fireplace hooked into the network. It's sort of like the Underground. Then there's the Knight Bus, but you need a wand to summon it and they charge for passage. Finally, you can get in from Muggle London -there's an entrance from the Leaky Cauldron. That's how my folks and I get there."
"So could you take us on a field trip?" asked Harry. "Show us around the Alley?" "Me? Take Harry Potter back to his rightful world? Sure!" agreed Ella. "All right, then. Girls, tomorrow we're going on a day trip to London. Everyone make sure you
have plenty of money for the train and the Underground. If I really do have a ton of gold in this wizarding bank, I'll buy everyone presents once I get my hands on some of it. Now, Ella, let me give you a proper thank-you for all the information you've given me today."
"What kind of thank--" Harry cut her off by pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. She blushed but kissed him back. "Oh, Merlin! I got kissed by Harry Potter!"
Later that day they formalized their plans. Ella would lead Harry and his fifteen girls into London, and from there into the wizarding world. They would meet in the park as usual and head out to the city from there.
Diagon Alley
"That's it up ahead. The Leaky Cauldron. It's a very famous wizarding pub, and there's an entrance to Diagon Alley in the back. The Cauldron serves both food and drinks, and it has rooms to let on the upper floors," explained Ella.
The party had successfully navigated their way from the park to the Underground into London and finally up to the entrance of the wizarding world. While normally a group of sixteen children parading through London would draw attention, Harry had managed to cast some charms about the group; Ella called it a Notice-Me-Not Spell, similar to what magic folk used to hide things from Muggles. She was in awe that Harry did it without a wand.
"That's a famous place?" "Looks awfully dirty!" "People actually eat in there?" came from the girls.
"Well, it's supposed to look that way!" defended Ella. "We can't have Trolls and Dragons hanging out right in plain sight! With the place looking like this, nobody would go inside even if they could see past the charms and wards. Trust me, the wizarding world gets much more impressive than this. Just wait until you see Gringotts!" She frowned for a moment. "Just to warn you, the magic world may seem to be a hundred years or so behind the times. Most places still use gas lighting, if they aren't still using wall torches and candles. Electricity usually doesn't work around magic, so you won't see any electric lights."
Harry and his fifteen Squib girlfriends followed Ella through the doors of the Leaky Cauldron and out to the alley in back. Before anyone could complain, she drew her wand and touched it to the specific bricks that opened the portal to the hidden world. "Ladies and Harry, welcome to Diagon Alley!"
The now stunned children walked slowly through the portal, their eyes darting from one amazing sight to the next. There were stores selling broomsticks, cauldrons of all types, owls of all sizes, and all sorts of strange and disgusting potions ingredients. They saw things that they had never known existed, and things they had only seen before in movies about magic. It was amazing to realize that so many of these things were actually real.
"We're going to that big white building over there," said Ella. "That's Gringotts." She led them to the building, and the girls managed to disturb the Goblin guards by cooing over how "cute" they were. Once past the outer doors they all read the words in silver above the inner doors - a clever warning in a rhyme, which was also a spell that the reader cast upon himself. Inside, over a hundred Goblins were working at various counters, exchanging money, weighing gold nuggets, and examining gemstones. Grabbing Harry's arm, Ella pulled him up to a free Goblin teller.
"May I help you?" sneered the Goblin.
"Hello," greeted Harry. "I was informed that I was needed here. My parents may have had accounts with your bank at the time of their deaths. I was hoping you could help me determine if this is so, tell me why I was needed, and access my accounts should they prove to exist." He looked a bit embarrassed. "I'm afraid I don't have a key or anything, but I hope that clever beings like Goblins would have a method for replacing lost keys."
"Indeed. And what is your name, sir?" asked the rather fierce-looking Goblin. For an answer Harry lifted his hair from his forehead, revealing the trademark scar to the teller. "I see. Griphook!" the Goblin called. "Griphook here can explain the lost-key retrieval procedure, Mr. Potter, as well as help you with any withdrawals you need to make today. He will, of course, need to verify your identity."
"Naturally," grinned Harry. "It wouldn't do to hand over gold to just anyone, now would it?"
"Indeed, Mr. Potter," grinned the Goblin. "Griphook, please take care of Mr. Potter and his...entourage," said the teller, nodding toward the herd of girlfriends waiting in the lobby. "Perhaps a private room is in order. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter. If you need further assistance beyond that which Griphook can provide, my name is Grimshard."
"The pleasure was mine, Grimshard. Hello, Griphook. Shall we retire to that private room now?"
"Yes, sir. If you and your party would follow me, I have a private room ready for you. A rather large room, given the size of your entourage.
After Harry and the girls were settled around a large conference table, Griphook placed a special parchment and quill pen down before Harry. "This, Mr. Potter, is a variation of a Blood Quill. It is designed to use the writer's own blood, magically extracted, as its ink. The parchment is charmed to create your family tree, using a combination of your blood, your magical signature, and the extensive bloodline records maintained by Gringotts. Just sign your name here at the bottom and the parchment will verify your family line, Mr. Potter."
"Will this hurt?" he asked.
"Only for a moment, after which the injury will heal over. It takes numerous repetitions with a Blood Quill to cause permanent injury."
"Right, then, let's get this part over with." Harry signed the bottom of the parchment, wincing as his signature was cut into the back of his hand for a moment. As the cut healed over, lines began to appear on the parchment. His family tree was being written before his eyes - his parents' names were written, then their parents', and so on. The names continued to span farther and farther back, the parchment growing longer and wider as more and more ancestors were revealed.
Eventually they reached the end of Gringotts' records and the detailed family tree sank into the parchment. In its place a list of wizarding family names and their vault numbers began to appear on the page. Harry saw the Potter name, as well as several others. A few of them were rather strange sounding. "Gryffindor? Hufflepuff? Ravenclaw? Slytherin?" he read aloud. "What kind of names are these?"
"Rather famous ones, actually," said Ella. "Those are four of the most powerful wizarding bloodlines out there. The Founders of those lines also founded Hogwarts over a thousand years ago. And you are the sole heir to all four families!"
"Yes. There was another heir to the Slytherin family fortunes, but he ceased to be on the night he attempted to kill you, Mr. Potter." Griphook grinned evilly. "You appear to now own all shares of
the wizarding world's most prestigious institution of higher learning." "Huh?" "Harry! You own Hogwarts!" squealed Ella.
"Now, you appear to be the heir to six major vaults, plus another seventeen minor accounts..." began Griphook.
Harry took it all in in a daze. The older girls had taken notebooks out of their bags and were taking copious notes.
Eventually Harry and the girls were left alone for a moment while Griphook went to investigate why Harry had only just now gotten his statement.
Griphook returned with a larger, older Goblin and introduced him as Director Ragnok.
Harry eyed Ragnok and asked, "So why have we - I - not received my statements, Director?" Ella elbowed him softly, which Harry took to mean this was an important Goblin.
Ragnok smiled, displaying an impressive array of pointy teeth. "Lord Potter, it appears that there was some type of verbal agreement between your account manager and Albus Dumbledore. Your account manager died and the newly appointed one has resumed normal practice and forwarded your statement and a request for instructions. I can assure you that your accounts will be handled with the highest level of diligence Gringotts can provide from now on. All of them."
Ella leaned into Harry. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster of Hogwarts."
Harry nodded. "Ragnok, why was Dumbledore watching my accounts, and who is my account manager?"
"I do not know why, Lord Potter. Oh, I could speculate, but we are performing an audit of your accounts as we speak to determine if anything untoward has happened. Given your level and stature in the wizarding world it was felt that you should receive the best possible service. I will be leading a team of managers in overseeing your accounts, Lord Potter, all of them."
The discussions continued for a while before Harry nodded, satisfied. Ragnok heaved an internal sigh of relief. He would have the idiots who had perpetrated this fraud smoked, jerked, and packaged before he was happy, but apparently Lord Potter had other fish to fry right now. Pretty little fish they were, too. Very tasty looking.
When Harry and the girls walked out of Gringotts they each carried a magically lightened pouch full of wizarding gold and Harry carried a Barclays card, a black Barclays card. Harry, as it turned out, was the heir to a fortune that measured in the billions of Galleons (the gold coins of wizarding currency.) He was incredibly wealthy, and he had chosen to share that wealth with his girls, just as they had always shared whatever they had with him. Besides the coin, he also had a thick stack of Gringotts bank drafts to cover larger expenses, in increments of one thousand, ten thousand, and one hundred thousand Galleons, should the need arise.
"So, Ella, where do you suggest we start shopping?" asked Harry. Like the other girls, she had been given a pouch of gold.
"If we're going to do some heavy duty shopping, then I suggest we start with luggage. In the magical world you can obtain trunks that can hold a great deal of possessions. There are more expensive models that are feather-light, and some that can even shrink down small enough to carry in your pocket. Since money really isn't an issue for you, I think such a trunk would be an excellent place to start."
"Bloody brilliant! To the luggage store!"
"Hello, how may I assist you today? Looking for a school trunk?" asked a rather cheerful looking man, apparently a salesman (or was that sales-wizard?) for the store.
"Ah, yes. Hello," greeted Harry, laying on the Potter charm. "My lovely young friends and I are in fact looking to purchase school trunks. We decided to make a group outing out of it. Now, I understand that you can provide some more advanced models of trunks? Ella here recommended your fine establishment, as she recalled this shop having several trunks with the latest in security features and feather-weight and resizing charms, not to mention the very largest in expanded interiors."
"You do realize that such features are rather expensive additions to a trunk? Also, some of the more advanced security features are restricted to Ministry personnel only - specifically Aurors."
"Really? How peculiar," mused Harry, subtly brushing aside his bangs as he scratched his head in thought. The sales-wizard looked surprised at the sight of the scar. "Despite such restrictions, I'm sure we can come to some sort of accommodation," he drawled, casually fanning himself with the Gringotts bank drafts - a hundred thousand-Galleon one clearly visible on the top. "After all, we're just a bunch of children, not a group of hardened criminals or the like."
"Oh, I'm sure those pesky restrictions weren't written to keep things from children." The shopkeeper grinned slyly. "Especially not such a remarkable child as yourself."
"I'm glad we understand one another. Now, what's the best trunk you have? What are the best features? Do you have any models that can be connected internally - so I could move from one expanded interior to another without exiting one trunk to reach the other?"
After about an hour of shopping and negotiating, Harry ended by paying a total of 256,400 Galleons for his and the girls' rather unique trunks. They was an experimental model, something that was being developed to market for the Aurors. These special trunks had the ability to "up-link" to specially designed "satellite" trunks - something like an internal, totally secure Floo Network that used doorway portals instead of fireplaces. The concept had not really sold well, both because of the prohibitive cost of the central "hub" trunk and the vast amounts of magical power needed to activate or forge the up-link portals. Luckily for Harry, he was an extremely powerful young wizard, fully capable of initiating the up-links. It would take a bit of time to figure out how, but he wasn't worried about it.
Both the hub and satellite trunks were magically protected, self-shrinkable (i.e., no wand needed), feather-light, expanded on the inside, and shielded from magical monitoring by the Ministry. The satellite trunks had three oversized compartments and a fourth that was a studio apartment, while the hub trunk had the equivalent of a small mansion inside. Ella informed him that the shielding feature alone was worth the price since it would allow underage witches and wizards to practice magic during the summer (something she herself could not do at present).
The hub trunk had rooms to suite many purposes. There was a potions lab, an apothecary storeroom, a library (currently empty), several work rooms for various spell crafting tasks, a greenhouse (how that worked Harry couldn't figure out, but the room was full of what appeared to be sunlight), gardens, and an exercise room. In addition to these special rooms were a full complement of normal ones: kitchen, pantry, dining room, bath, master chambers, dorms, study, office, lounge, and even a game room. There were several empty rooms that could be customized later. Finally there was a long, narrow hallway full of doors, one hundred in all, that could be linked to satellite trunks.
Planning for the future, Harry purchased a full one hundred satellite trunks, fifteen of which were given to his Squib girls (Ella wasn't part of the group, so she didn't get one). Since the remaining eighty-five trunks were not connected to the trunk network, Harry was able to store them in one of the unfurnished rooms. Already he had vague plans of using the excess trunks to create his own private transportation network. After all, he had inherited multiple real estate locations as part of his inheritance.
Now that they had their own private space, they would need to furnish all the rooms. They would need beds, couches, chairs, tables, linens, carpets, and all the rest. Thankfully, Harry was filthy stinking rich. The girls would be able to furnish their new apartments as well as Harry's secret mansion. Harry's main concern was stocking up the apothecary, potions lab, greenhouse, and libraries.
Taking a great risk but trusting his girls implicitly, he set the Squib girls free to shop in Diagon Alley while he had Ella guide him through the rest of her school supply list (he had received her Hogwarts letter already). Once they were finished he would visit all the stores the girls had made purchases from and transfer the larger items into the trunks. Soon enough he had managed to get everything he needed - including a full stock of potions material and supplies - except for his wizarding clothes and his wand.
He started the Squib girls on getting fitted for witches' robes while Ella took him over to Ollivander's for his wand, at Harry's insistence. "Harry, do you think it was wise to turn the girls loose with that much money?" asked his guide to all things magical.
"Um...probably not, now that you mention it." Harry sighed. "I'll just have to hope they don't get into too much trouble before they're finished."
"I thought I'd be seeing you rather later, Mr. Potter." The voice came out of the shadows behind them, scaring the daylights out of both Ella and Harry. Mr. Ollivander emerged from his hiding place to gaze at Harry with his disturbing silver-white eyes. "It seems like only yesterday that your parents were in here buying their first wands."
"Mr. Ollivander, I presume?" interrupted Harry. With fifteen girls running rampant through the Alley, he didn't want to waste time on drawn-out stories about the past. Now that he knew the way, he could come back on his own to hear them. "If I may ask, are there any Ministry restrictions on how many wands a wizard may own?" Having just one wand seemed rather...stupid. They were made of wood! A thin wooden rod was rather breakable.
"Such an odd question for such a young wizard, Mr. Potter. Truthfully there is no legal restriction since very few people are able to bond to more than one wand at a time. In fact, after finding their first match few seldom even think about obtaining another unless their first wand is somehow damaged. However, it is rare for a wand to share its wizard - for it is the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way around."
"Really?" Harry asked. Now, why would it matter.... "So I'd hazard a guess that a wand needs to be compatible with the wizard in question...magic to magic, so to speak." Yes, that makes sense, he thought. "Then an incompatible wand would give a wizard unreliable, possibly even unpredictable results? Possibly even no result at all?" Mr. Ollivander nodded. "But would a wizard find that one particular wand would be best suited for a certain branch of magic, while another wand would be better suited for a different branch - for instance, one wand being better for Charms and another for Transfiguration, yet both working well for the wizard in question?"
"My, my, Mr. Potter. You are a most unusual young wizard," beamed Mr. Ollivander. "You are also very correct. Certain wands are predisposed for Charms, Transfiguration, or even the Darker
arts. Both the type of wood and the core itself lend themselves towards certain magics. Swishy wands tend to be better for Charms work - which can be a more delicate magic - while stronger, more rigid wands often favor Transfiguration. You have a keen grasp of magical theory, Mr. Potter."
"Could you recommend any volumes on the theory and practice of wand making? I find myself to be insatiably interested in the various ways woods and cores interact. I'd like to read a bit further on the mechanics, if you will, behind magic wands."
"I believe I could round up a few pertinent volumes to quench your thirst for knowledge. But first we need to find your wand, Mr. Potter." Mr. Ollivander took out a tape measure and began to take various measurements. "Which is your wand hand?"
"I'm right-handed, but I've learned to make almost full use of my left," replied Harry. "Now, if a wand needs to properly resonate with my own magical signature, then it would stand to reason that it would respond to a release of my magic. The wand or wands suitable to me would be sensed by me upon such an unleashing of magical energy." Ollivander nodded slightly to himself. "Well, let's see how that works."
Harry summoned up a pulse of his raw magic, and released it in a minor shock wave that raced through the wand shop. As it expanded outward he felt a sort of echo bounce back at him from several locations. Mr. Ollivander looked on with interest as Harry used this magical sonar method to seek out those wands that resonated with his signature. He then went down the aisles to collect the wand boxes that had returned his magical call.
"These seem to respond to me, sir," Harry informed the wand maker.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us see how well you theory has translated into reality," stated Mr. Ollivander. The first wand was very swishy, made from willow. "A good one for Charms work," noted the wand maker. The next was made from a rather rigid oak and "A rather powerful Transfiguration wand," according to the expert. He had five more "specialty" wands, made from rowan, aspen, walnut, ebony, and wormwood. These were suited for Healing, Shielding, Dueling, Jinxes/Hexes/Curses, and Dark Arts, respectively. Mr. Ollivander looked a bit concerned by the last wand, but somehow Harry Potter did not seem the type to fall victim to the addictive qualities of the Darker magics.
The last wand he had selected was what Harry would come to call his "all-purpose" wand. It was made from holly and had a Phoenix tailfeather for its core. This wand was the best overall match, as it resonated highly with most branches of magic. (The specific-use wands resonated higher in their own branches but quite a bit lower in all the others.) It was this wand, however, that drew Mr. Ollivander's interest most.
"Curious. Most curious indeed," the wand maker mused to himself.
"Pardon, Mr. Ollivander, but what's so curious about this wand?" asked Harry. He had a total of eight wands. Why would this one be so much more unusual than the other seven?
"Mr. Potter, I remember every wand I have ever sold. Every single one. The curious thing is that the Phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your holly wand gave another feather - just one other. It is indeed curious that this wand was destined for your use, when its brother gave you that scar." He pointed to Harry's forehead. "Though I suppose I should have expected it, given the source of the feathers in your other wands."
"Oh?" asked Harry. "And where did those Phoenix tailfeathers come from?"
"Your other wands, Mr. Potter, are all sibling wands. Sister wands, to be precise. You see, the feathers in each of them all came from the same Phoenix. As I understand it, those seven feathers were the only ones given by a female Phoenix, who happens to be the firstborn child of he who gave the other two feathers."
"That is interesting," agreed Harry. "So my special-purpose wands are child-wands to my primary one?"
"You could say that. I shall be expecting great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named did great things as well. Terrible, but great."
"Wow!" squeaked Ella, who had until then remained forgotten in the shadows. "You have almost the same wand as You-Know-Who!"
"You do realize that's the most ridiculous thing to call him, don't you? Didn't the guy have a first name?" asked Harry. "Somehow I doubt that his parents named him 'Lord'. It sounds like something he made up himself."
"He was not always known by the name which inspires such fear in the hearts of witches and wizards the world over, Mr. Potter," replied Mr. Ollivander. "Once upon a time I sold a yew wand with a Phoenix feather core to a young Muggle-raised boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle. Over time, that boy was replaced by the Dark menace who met his end at your childhood home, Mr. Potter."
"Thanks for the info, Mr. Ollivander. Now, before we settle up, do you happen to sell wand holsters? I find that I need one. Make that several. Oh, and do you have those books you mentioned?"
Mr. Ollivander did have several wand holsters available, including a customized design that could hold up to ten wands. It was a model requested by Aurors to hold the wands of prisoners. Harry purchased two - one for his wands, and one for just in case. After collecting several books, and the titles of several more for purchase elsewhere, he handed Mr. Ollivander a nice little pile of gold for the items. He then added a small bonus for the information about the Dark Lord once named Tom. Before he left the shop Harry installed a magic of his own on Ollivander to keep him from mentioning to whom he had sold the wands. Ollivander's head snapped up at this unexpected attack, but it was too late; he could do nothing.
"Well, we've got some time before you can start collecting the girls," began Ella. "Why don't we go get you a pet?"
"Okay. Your letter said first years can have a cat, toad, or owl. Any recommendations?" asked Harry.
"Well, toads aren't really popular any more. I hear they were rather fashionable about a hundred years ago, but that was a bit of a fad, really. Cats are good, since they can learn to boost some magics. Oh, and they keep rats away from your dorm. However, most people go for owls. Magic folk use owls to carry their mail - sometimes they also use eagles, hawks, or falcons, but owls are the best. There's a store down the street that sells owls and owl accessories."
"Wizards accessorize their owls?" chuckled Harry. "Not like that!" scoffed Ella. "I mean things like cages, perches, and owl treats."
"Ah! Cool. Let's go take a look at owls, then. Maybe I'll find one that suits me." Harry let Ella lead him over to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Inside, they found all sorts of owls, from tiny screech owls
that fit in one's hand to enormous eagle owls that could crush a man's head with their mighty talons. "See anything you like?" she asked after several minutes of browsing.
"It's not so much seeing as feeling," replied Harry, who was currently standing in the center of the store with his eyes closed.
"That's okay. So do any of these owls 'feel' right to you?" Ella asked.
"I like the feeling I get off of the snowy owl in the back corner." Both children walked over to the owl in question. It was a female, and possessed a rather dignified stance for a post owl. "You seem like a nice owl to me, girl. So what do you think?" The owl looked at Harry, cocking her head from side to side as she eyed him carefully. Finally she bobbed her head once in acceptance of her new master. "Well, come on up." He held out his arm and the owl hopped on, then climbed up onto his shoulder.
"That's kind of freaky," admitted Ella. "I've never seen an owl take to somebody that quickly."
"What can I say?" asked Harry. "I want my owl to be the smartest one out there!" At his words, a burst of magic flared out from him, surrounding his as yet unpurchased owl. She appeared to glow for a moment, then resumed her normal look.
"Hey!" shouted the proprietor. "You start messing with an owl, you'd best be buying it!"
"Uh...sorry about that, sir," replied Harry. "I'm not exactly sure what I just did...but I already intended to purchase this fine owl. So no real harm done. I also need a cage, a couple of sturdy perch stands, and of course several boxes of owl treats." His soon-to-be owl hooted happily. "Like owl treats, do you girl?" She nipped his ear affectionately.
"You're one freaky kid, Harry," whispered Ella. "I like you and all that, but you're rather strange."
"Thanks, I think," grinned Harry.
"Can we look in the Magical Menagerie?" asked Ella. "My folks won't let me have an owl, but they might accept a cat. Now that I have a bit of spending money," she held up her bulging belt purse, "I hope to find one I like."
"Lead on, Gunga Din!" "You're impossible!" chuckled Ella.
They moved farther down the Alley, waving to the Squib girls who ran here and there on their spending sprees. The pair could hear and smell the Menagerie before they could see it. So many animals in such a confined space was like a miniature zoo. When they stepped inside, it was like nothing Harry had ever seen before.
There were sleek black rats that were busy performing all sorts of tricks inside their cages. He saw several types of cats, some cat-like creatures called Kneazles, and a variety of cat-sized mammals. Along the side wall were enormous purple toads, neon-orange poisonous snails, and a vicious- looking lizard. In the window was a large tortoise with a shell covered in precious gemstones. And deep in the back he found several breeds of snakes.
Ella was busy looking at the felines, so Harry went over to the snakes. For years now he had felt a sort of communion with the legless reptiles. "His" park back in Surrey was full of them, and they seemed to obey his wish that they avoid the many children who played there.
:I'm so bored,: one of the snakes seemed to complain.
:Why complain?: hissed another. :It's warm here, the wizard brings us mice, and nothing can eat us. What more do you want?:
:Don't mind her,: said a third. :She's shedding again. You know how shedding one's skin makes one ill-tempered.: There were hisses of agreement.
"What would you do if you were free?" whispered Harry.
:I would find something other than mice to eat.: The small, bright-green snake reared up to look at Harry. :One grows so tired of mice.:
"I know of a nice park. It's rather sunny, and it has a pond with many small frogs," said Harry.
:And birds? I always enjoyed a nice bird.: "Yes, there are many birds there too." :I think I would like that place.:
"If you'll let me, I can take you there," said Harry.
:I will trust you, wizard.: Harry opened the small snake's cage and the little female snake slithered up his arm, curling herself around his left bicep. :Take me to your park now.: He took the snake to the counter, where Ella was paying for an adorable cream-colored kitten.
"Find something to your liking?" he asked.
"Yes! Isn't she adorable?" asked Ella. "I'm going to name her Andromeda. So, did you find anyth-- aargh!" Ella jumped back as the small snake peeked out from under the sleeve of Harry's shirt. "What is that?"
"Oh her? She's just hitching a ride out of here," said Harry. :This is my friend, Ella,: he said to the snake. :Please don't bite her.:
:As you wish, wizard.:
"Harry! You can talk to snakes?" squeaked Ella. "Bloody hell, you're a Parselmouth!"
"I'm a what?" "Parselmouth. You can talk to snakes!"
"Oh, that. I didn't know there was a name for it. Is that a problem?"
"Um...you may want to keep it a secret. Talking to snakes is considered to be Dark magic. From what I've heard, You-Know-Who was a Parselmouth."
"In that case let's just keep this between the two of us." Harry enforced this suggestion with the same magic Ollivander had felt moments ago.
He spent the next three hours moving from store to store, settling up accounts for items purchased by his girls, shrinking items (no one had told him he couldn't do magic yet!), moving them into various trunks, and restoring them to their normal sizes. He was rather surprised by the amount of money thirty-seven young girls could spend in so short a time. It was enough to beggar a moderately wealthy family.
After settling up at Flourish and Blotts bookstore, Obscurus Books, Scribbulus Everchanging Inks, Slug & Jiggers Apothecary, the cauldron shop, Gambol & Japes wizarding joke shop, the junk shop, and several furniture and furnishings stores, he led his herd of girlfriends over to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The girls all wanted witch clothing, and he needed to get
himself some wizarding robes. "Harry, are you really going to buy us clothes?" "Can we get anything we want?" "I think the robes the witches wear are awesome!" "Do you know how a magical seamstress does a fitting?"
"Girls, girls! Let's just go inside and find out!" He led them inside, where the proprietress, Madam Malkin, looked rather shocked by the number of customers entering. "Hello. Madam Malkin, I presume? The girls and I find ourselves in need of some non-Muggle clothing."
"Oh my! There are so many of you! This may take some time."
"Not to worry, ma'am. I can assure you you'll be well compensated for your time." Harry flashed her the remaining bank drafts. "My girls want to get new robes, and I mean to get them new robes."
"Of course, sir," agreed a suddenly much more pleasant seamstress. "Now, why don't the young ladies take a look at what I have available while I begin taking everyone's measurements?" Upon hearing that, the girls all dashed over to the clothing racks and began rooting through displays of robes, dresses, skirts, and blouses. "Oh! Oh dear!" exclaimed the witch.
"Just let them browse, ma'am, while you start measuring me," instructed Harry. "I need the full Hogwarts set, and possibly some nice robes for everyday and formal wear. The ladies will need...well, whatever strikes their fancy."
By the time they left Madam Malkin's, the shop was a near-disaster area. Each of the girls now had dozens of witchy outfits and they each had donned one set of robes to wear around the Alley. Harry, too, had donned a set of robes - he made quite a good-looking young wizard, despite the Potter hair. In spite of the devastation to her shop, Madam Malkin was one happy (if exhausted) witch. Such a large sales day meant her profits were way up for the month. And most of the Hogwarts students had not even purchased their school robes yet! Best of all, these were growing children so they would need wardrobe updates for years to come.
After finishing their shopping spree, Harry and the girls headed back to Surrey. The rest of their summer and the next three years would be spent delving through the many magical tomes he had purchased that day. With his already developed magical skills and self-discovered magical theory, Harry was able to rapidly progress through the first year materials. The girls were an asset in codifying further theories and laws of the various branches of magic. Ella was a godsend because she had already sat through the lectures. Harry finally folded his first witch into the group and gave her a trunk before September first of her third year.
With the deluxe potions-brewing equipment he had purchased Harry managed to brew up many useful concoctions. The books he had found detailing common potions mistakes, the basic, intermediate, and advanced rules of ingredients, flame temperatures, and stirring explained why certain ingredients could not be combined, specific temperatures were required, and what quick clockwise stirring could do that a slower counter-clockwise one could not. The rules were detailed and complex, but knowing them made Potions a much easier subject to practice.
Astronomy was simplified by the large crystal model of the galaxy that he had indulged himself in, for he could readily call up the visible constellations for any given day whenever he wanted. The placement of the heavenly bodies could influence other magics, especially potions, herbology, and
divination. Care of certain magical creatures sometimes depended on lunar cycles - werewolves, for example. And the moon's pull sometimes drastically changed the properties of certain potions ingredients, thereby necessitating when they could be harvested.
Charms and Transfiguration turned out to be more of a case of mind over matter. After careful study, one of the girls - a shy redhead named Jamie - determined that all the incantations and wand movements were little more than mnemonic devices to help under-powered witches and wizards focus their power on the task at hand. Spells, hexes, jinxes, curses, and the like could be performed without speech or wand movements. All that was required was a more intense mental discipline - a firmer focus, if you will. Several of the more advanced books mentioned this, but few in the magical community ever bothered to learn the discipline to accomplish silent magic, let alone to cast spells without wand movements.
Healing turned out to be a mix of spellcasting and potions brewing. Both Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures were rather self explanatory. For that matter, so were Ancient History, Muggle Studies, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Divination.
Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were rather interesting, despite only being offered starting in the third year. The first dealt with applying mathematical principles to spell work. With it, one could measure and refine a known spell or even craft an entirely new magical effect. The latter branch detailed how to inscribe magical effects into symbols of power. When combined together, these two branches of study allowed for the creation of magical artifacts, including such items as Pensieves and Time-Turners.
Drawing from all the source information they had available, Harry and the girls began to simplify and condense the principles and theories of magic into new instructional texts. They were the first books written to learn magic from a Muggle perspective, drawing references to popular fiction, scientific examples, and other Muggle cultural examples.
The pack of them became a familiar sight cruising Diagon and Knockturn alleys, and several wizards learned the hard way to steer clear of them. There was no cure for having your nuts crushed when you touched one of those girls.
Harry also read the articles from the Daily Prophet's morgue, familiarizing himself with the history of his family. Something just didn't ring true.
They discovered Harry's properties and put a trunk at each one. Some of the minor families' properties included house-elves. What a surprise that had been; but now the elves were maintaining all the properties and apparently breeding like rabbits. Harry had told the senior elves he didn't mind if they had children, just not to have more than the properties could support. He might have to modify that soon.
Ella was right. Neville Longbottom was a prat. Harry had seen him in the alley a couple of times now, and while he tried to be friendly, the boy treated him like a servant.
Harry spent some time with the Hogwarts girls he had taken into the group, especially the Slytherins. They were very well informed and schooled in the pure-blood proprieties.
Almost before they knew it, September 1, 1991, had arrived.