Chapter Text
To Make a Family
Chapter 1
When Harry Meets Marcus
Harry Potter was a wizard. The big man named Hagrid told him. Harry had a feeling there was something special about him after all the letters that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia refused to let him read. They were addressed to him and everything! Harry Potter, Cupboard under the stairs. That’s what the letters read, though it was a little strange to Harry that it was addressed like that.
His Uncle forced them to move out to a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere, where Harry spent his eleventh birthday alone until the big man named Hagrid appeared. He smashed through the door, told Harry he was magic, and then gave his bully of a cousin a pig’s tail!
Then, finally, Harry was able to read his letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster ABLUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
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 the necessary books and equipment.
The term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
Hagrid took care of the reply, giving it to an owl and letting it fly away. The next day, Hagrid took Harry away to London. Harry was curious about where they would go to buy school supplies for a magic school, but Hagrid remained mysterious about it, telling Harry that he was famous. Something that Harry didn’t believe until they entered a “famous” place called the Leaky Cauldron. It was a grubby, dirty-looking pub that Harry would never have noticed on his own. Stranger after stranger came up to Harry, shaking his hand and thanking him. They told him that they were excited to meet him; one of them was even a teacher at Hogwarts! It all left Harry feeling confused and left out, especially as Hagrid continued to not explain anything.
Then they finally entered a magical alley called Diagon Alley. Shops were all crammed next to each other, all as colorful as the last and selling stuff like cauldrons. There was an Apothecary with a plump woman selling dragon liver; a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium had owls hooting all around. Several boys Harry’s age were pressing their noses against a window with broomsticks on display. “Look,” Harry heard one of them say, “the new Nimbus Two Thousand—it’s the fastest one yet!”
There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes, and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, and globes of the moon. …
At the end of the Alley was a tall white building called Gringotts, where Harry and Hagrid rode minecarts to reveal that Harry had a lot of money: mountains of gold coins called Galleons, piles upon piles of silver coins called Sickles, and a trove of bronze coins that Hagrid pointed out to be Knuts.
Then Hagrid left.
He muttered something about needing a “pick-me-up” from the Leaky Cauldron, as he hated the mine carts. He nodded off to a shop and told Harry to go there, but Harry didn’t see exactly what store he was talking about before he left.
Leaving Harry alone in a strange place with a pocket full of currency he didn’t understand. So the small boy started to wander, his eyes wide and filled with wonder and merriment as he took in all the signs and magic happening around him. People with wands caused stuff to fly around everywhere, he saw a witch turn a barrel into a rocking chair! Another wizard waved his wand around a cauldron, and the liquid squirted up and out, landing neatly in a row of bottles. There was a kid younger than him waving around a bright green wand that looked like a toy, laughing as sparks shot out of it! It looked like a lot of fun, and it made Harry sad that he missed out on it because of how he was raised.
He was so absorbed with everything around him that he didn’t notice where he was walking until it was too late.
The strong back of an older boy knocked Harry to his butt as he walked straight into him. “Ow—who? Watch it, kid!” the older boy said, and Harry looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than him. He had short black hair, a squarish face that made him look mean, bright brown eyes, and he was wearing a set of green robes over a shirt and slacks. “Who are you?” the boy demanded. “Are your glasses just for show?”
“Sorry!” Harry said from his spot on the ground. “I wasn’t looking.”
“Clearly,” the boy drawled. “Look, get up,” he offered a hand, and Harry took it. “You’re tiny,” the boy said. “You’re what? Eight? Nine? Where are your parents?”
“I’m eleven,” Harry said a little bashfully as he was pulled up.
“What!? No!” the older boy said. “Who are you?”
“I’m Harry,” Harry said, still holding the boy’s hand. “Harry Potter.”
The boy’s eyes widened in shock before narrowing slightly. “Is that so?” he sneered. “I heard all about you.”
“You have?” Harry asked. “How!? Hagrid never told me!”
“Of course he hasn’t,” the boy sneered. “Whoever he is—he doesn’t want you to associate with us commoners, even if we are purebloods.”
“What? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” Harry said. The boy tightened his grip on Harry’s hand, and he winced. “You’re hurting me,” he said in a meek voice.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I too rough?” the boy taunted. “Do you want me to call on one of your many house-elves, Golden Boy? I’m sure they’ll carry you away to your hidden palace you live in.”
Harry whimpered as the boy continued to squeeze his hand. “What!?” he repeated. “I don’t live in a palace! I never even stepped foot in one! Please, let go!”
“Huh?” the boy said, his hand loosening in shock. “What do you mean?”
Tears started to well up as Harry pulled his hand away and held it to his chest. “I don’t live in a palace! I live with muggles, as Hagrid called them! They had me living in a cupboard, I don’t even have a bedroom!”
“That can’t be right,” the older boy frowned, “we weren’t told that.”
“What were you told? And why were you told anything?” Harry asked. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything—I didn’t even know I was a wizard until yesterday.”
“What!? No way!” the older boy gasped. “You have to be lying.”
Harry shook his head. “I’m not, I swear. I mean, strange things would happen, yeah, but every time, Uncle Vernon would beat me for it or lock me in the cupboard. Sometimes he left me in there for a whole week and small sweets magically appeared.”
“That can’t be right,” the boy frowned. He stared at Harry for a moment and thrust out his hand. “I’m sorry. Marcus Flint.”
Harry eyed the hand carefully.
“I’ll be gentle,” Marcus said, and he was right as he gave Harry a gentle handshake. “You really were living with muggles?” he asked, sneering at the thought.
“Uh-huh,” Harry nodded.
“And you don’t know why you’re famous?” Marcus asked.
“Nuh-uh,” Harry shook his head.
“Well damn,” Marcus said. “Do you even know who the Dark Lord is?”
“No, is he from a fairy tale?” Harry asked.
“From a fairy tale, he says—no,” Marcus said. “The Dark Lord is the reason you’re famous, Potter! He’s the reason you got that scar. Everyone knows the story. When you were a baby, the Dark Lord invaded your home. He killed your parents and tried to kill you, but couldn’t. All they could find was you with your scar. You’re the Boy-Who-Lived!”
“Ohh, I never knew that,” Harry muttered. “Then why were you mad at me!?” he demanded.
Marcus’s cheeks turned pink as he said, “We were all told that you were moved away to this secret castle where all your needs were met. I got a little jealous.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Harry said. “I was living with my aunt, and uncle, and my bully of a cousin, Dudley! They made me do all the chores and even the cooking, and if I burn anything, I get the belt!”
Marcus flinched and patted Harry’s shoulder. “Well, all that’s behind now. So who are you with? Certainly not those muggles.”
“No, I’m with a man named Hagrid. He works for Hogwarts,” Harry said. “Who are you with?”
“No one,” Marcus boasted. “I’m thirteen so my parents told me I could go shopping by myself.”
“That’s cool! So you know this place really well?” Harry asked, his wonderment coming back into his eyes.
“Yup,” Marcus said, popping his ‘p.’ “This place and Knockturn Alley too, though the adults will say we can’t go there. It’s full of dark arts, they say, but it’s also very cool.”
“Woah,” Harry breathed out. “Are there any magic animals here? Like talking animals?”
Marcus laughed. “You’re funny, animals can’t talk.”
“Yes, they can! I met a talking snake just a couple of weeks ago at the zoo,” Harry said. “I helped him escape, and he told me that he was going to go to Brazil.”
Marcus laughed, “Now you’re pulling me! You didn’t talk to a snake.”
“Yes, I did! I can prove it,” Harry said hotly as he crossed his arms. “Bring me to a snake, and I can show you that they can talk.”
“Why not,” Marcus shrugged. “We’re near a pet shop, let’s go.” Harry grinned and walked confidently with Marcus to a shop called Magical Menagerie. It was a tight, small shop with cages that took up all of the walls. It was a noisy shop as well, filled with hissing, squeaking, and jabbering of all the different types of animals. In the corner, hidden in a glass tank, were different types of snakes that lazed around on rocks. Harry smiled and knelt before the glass.
“Hello,” he said. “Do any of you speak?”
The snakes all rose slowly to stare at him.
“What’s the hairless monkey asking?” one snake said, looking back at the others. “Do we speak?”
“Of course we do, human, it’s just your people who don’t understand,” a second snake said.
Harry gasped and turned to Marcus. “Look! There are two talking snakes here! I told you,” he said excitedly before turning back to the cages. “How long have you guys been here?”
“Don’t know, since I’ve been in an egg at least,” the first snake answered before looking back at the others. “That one’s been here forever.” It used its tail to point at a rather elderly-looking snake. It was the longest of all the snakes, with dull scales. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little sad about their coloring.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Is the owner not treating you right?”
“Ha! He hates us,” a snake laughed. “Stuck us all in this corner and only gives us mice once a month. Even the mice and toads are treated better!”
“That’s horrible!” Harry gasped before looking back at Marcus. “Did you hear that? That’s horrible!”
“Harry… all I heard was hissing,” Marcus said, looking at the boy with a new intensity that Harry didn’t understand.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was like you were speaking another language,” Marcus nodded. “What did they say?”
“Oh! This one has been here since he was an egg,” Harry said, pointing at the snake, “while that big one over there has been here forever! But more importantly, the owner doesn’t treat them nicely at all! He placed them in this corner and barely feeds them!”
“That is a shame,” Marcus hummed. “So what are you going to do?”
“Huh?”
“What are you going to do to these snakes?” Marcus asked. “Are you going to leave them here?”
“No! It’s horrible here!” Harry said. “I don’t know how to take care of so many snakes, but maybe I can just buy one of them, and you can make the glass disappear?”
“Why would I do that?” Marcus asked, crossing his arms.
“Because I asked you?” Harry said hopefully. “And because it’ll be the right thing to do for these snakes.”
Marcus sighed and looked over his shoulder. The owner wasn’t in sight, so he quietly pulled out his wand. “Choose the one you want, and hiss at them your plan.”
“Okay!” Harry grinned. He turned to the snakes and said, “I can only bring one of you with me, but my friend is going to make the glass disappear. Maybe you can all slither away to someplace better.”
The snakes all hissed in agreement, and Harry picked out the youngest of the snakes he could find with the help of a motherly snake. “He just hatched two nights ago,” she said. “You’ll take good care of him?”
“Yes, and if you want to find him again, he’ll be at Hogwarts. You know where that is, right?” Harry asked the mother snake worriedly.
“I’ll find my way,” the mama snake said. She gently pushed the baby snake into the palm of Harry’s hand. It felt cool to the touch and was only eight inches long. The scales were a mixture of black and green. “He’s so cute,” Harry said as he held him up to Marcus. “Isn’t he?”
“Yeah, now move,” Marcus said, pointing his wand at the glass. He said some funny words, and Harry smiled as the back plane disappeared entirely. “Come on, let’s get your snake.”
Harry continued to smile widely as he petted the baby snake, his mind whirling with names for him. The owner was shocked that Harry wanted the snake. “Are you sure?” he asked both Harry and Marcus. “Where is your mother?”
“Yes, and this is fine,” Marcus said. “Are you going to sell us the snake or not?”
“Fine… but don’t blame me if your mother yells at you, boys.” The man shrugged, and Harry realized that he was mistaking them for brothers. He couldn’t help but giggle at the idea as they stepped out.
“He thought we were brothers,” he pointed out.
“Well, we do have the same hair,” Marcus shrugged. “Still, you happy?”
“Very,” Harry grinned.
“Good, going to be honest, you’ll be wasted in Gryffindor,” Marcus sighed as he patted Harry’s back.
“What’s Gryffindor?” Harry asked.
“One of the four houses,” Marcus explained. “There’s Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and my house: Slytherin. As far as I know, the Potters were always in Gryffindor.”
“Really? Not yours?” Harry asked. “Then I’ll be in Slytherin,” he decided and caused Marcus to laugh again.
“As if!” he laughed. “You’re interesting, Harry, I’ll give you that. You’re nothing like I expected, but I’m sorry, there’s no way a Potter will end up in Slytherin; it just never happened.”
“That’s only because I haven’t got into Slytherin yet,” Harry smiled.
“Why are you so obsessed?”
“Easy, because it’s your house, and I want to be in it,” Harry said. “We’re friends now, right? I want to be in the same house as my friend.”
“Oh,” Marcus said, his cheeks blushing once more. He cleared his throat and smirked, “Then if you are, I’ll take you in.”
“Really?” Harry gasped.
“Yeah,” Marcus laughed. “Why not?”
Harry smiled as he looked up at the older boy. He liked the idea a lot. It would be fun, and Harry had a feeling that Marcus would teach him everything he needed to know—even the stuff that the adults didn’t want him to know! Harry gently pocketed his new snake and said, “Then I get into Slytherin, and you take me under your wing?” he held his hand out to Marcus.
“Sure, sounds good,” Marcus smirked as he shook Harry’s hand. “I’ll teach you how to fly and even play Quidditch. Good luck, though, there’s never been a Potter in Slytherin, and I don’t expect that to change any time soon—”
“Harry! There yer are! Why didn’t you go get your robes yet?” Hagrid’s voice boomed over the noise of Diagon Alley. “Oh, you made a friend? Say goodbye; you’ll see him on the train,” Hagrid said. “We gots lots ter buy, Harry. Lots ter buy!”
“Oh, okay,” Harry said. “See you, Marcus!”
“I’ll see you on the train, Harry,” Marcus said.
Harry was led into a clothing shop called Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Harry entered the store alone, as Hagrid said he would wait outside. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed in all mauve.
“Hogwarts, dear?” she asked Harry when he started to speak. “Got the lot here—another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.”
In the back of the shop a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.
“Hello,” the boy said. “Hogwarts, too?”
“Yes,” Harry said.
“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” the boy said. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow. Do you got your own broom?” the boy asked.
“No,” Harry said.
“Play Quidditch at all?”
“No, but my brother is going to teach me at Hogwarts,” Harry said.
“You have a brother?” the boy asked curiously.
“I do, but he doesn’t know it yet,” Harry said with a grin. “We just met today.”
“What?” The boy balked. “How does he not know you’re his brother? Who are you?”
“Harry, and his name is Marcus. We just met today,” Harry said.
“Uh-huh,” the boy said, sounding a little weirded out. He took a second and resumed the same look he had before, “Well, I play Quidditch, and Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?”
“Marcus told me that my family was always in Gryffindor, but he’s in Slytherin. So I’m going to be in Slytherin,” Harry said confidently, earning himself a laugh from the boy.
“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family has been—sounds like you’re stuck with Gryffindor, pathetic, but I don’t blame you for trying to get into the best house,” the boy continued.
“How do you get sorted?” Harry asked.
“Who knows, I tried to bully the information out of father and mother, but they are quite tight-lipped about it,” the boy said. He looked around and said suddenly, “I say, look at that man!” he nodded toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn’t come in.
“That’s Hagrid,” Harry said. “He works at Hogwarts.”
“Oh,” the boy said, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?”
“He’s the gamekeeper, whatever that means,” Harry said.
“Servant,” the boy said pointedly. “I heard he’s a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds, and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed.”
“I think he’s alright,” Harry shrugged.
“Do you?” the boy sneered. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?”
“They’re dead,” Harry said shortly.
“Oh, sorry,” the boy said, not sounding sorry at all. “But they were our kind, weren’t they?”
“If you mean a witch and wizard, then yes, they were,” Harry said a little hotly.
“I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? I mean, of course you don’t if you’re going to be in Slytherin,” the boy said with a knowing smirk.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Oh, you know,” the boy said. “They’re just not the same; they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine! I think they should keep it in the old families. What’s your surname, anyway?”
Before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Harry hopped down from the footstool and turned to the boy. “Potter,” he said, “and my brother’s name is Marcus Flint, heard of us?” he said before turning to leave.
“Wait!” the boy called out, “sit with me on the train!” Harry didn’t answer as he walked out.
The rest of the day was spent asking Hagrid questions as he finished his shopping. He learned that Quidditch was the wizards’ soccer played on flying broomsticks. As well as that, Hagrid really does not like Slytherins, stating that “there’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one.”
Harry felt that he was being unfair, especially since his soon-to-be brother was a Slytherin, but he decided to keep his opinion to himself. They purchased his books at a store called Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather. Harry saw several books that weren’t on the list and sounded extremely cool, but Hagrid refused to allow him to buy them, not being able to pronounce some of the titles. Harry did his best to purchase them when the man wasn’t looking. It was his money, after all.
Hagrid stopped, muttering something about forgetting Harry’s birthday present. Harry tried to protest, but Hagrid wouldn’t hear it. So, with his pet snake safe in his pocket, Harry and Hagrid spent twenty minutes in a store called Eeylops Owl Emporium before walking out with a beautiful snowy white owl chirping in her cage.
Hagrid again stopped Harry from buying a golden cauldron but allowed him to purchase a nice set of scales and potions ingredients before finally getting his wand. It was a laborious process, the wandmaker named Mr. Ollivander remembered every wand he sold, and he harkened on about his parents’ wands before telling Harry a little about wands. All Harry remembered was the phrase, “The wand chooses the wizard.”
He tried a mountain of wands before he felt one that was just right. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Harry felt like the wand was an extension of himself as he waved it around, producing green sparks that both Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander clapped at.
“Oh, bravo, bravo indeed! But how curious… how very curious…” Mr. Ollivander muttered.
“I’m sorry, but what’s curious?” Harry asked.
Mr. Ollivander stared at Harry for a moment before saying, “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every. Single. Wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tailfeather resides in your wand gave another feather—just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined in this wand when its brother, why, its brother gave you that scar.”
Harry swallowed. “And… who owned that wand?” he asked.
Mr. Ollivander leaned closer. “We do not speak his name,” he muttered. “The wand chooses the wizard, remember? … 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.”