Echoes of a Darker Time

A younger version of Tom the barman was currently standing behind the bar with several young men filling every seat at the long bar top. It was clear to Harry that the war was not yet in full swing, because people looked happy. Harry hadn't seen this kind of joy on people's faces in years. Ever since the Graveyard, the country had a dark shadow cast overhead. Even when people were burying their heads in the sand, they all knew that something big was coming. Even if most of the idiots thought it was Dumbledore bringing a revolution.

Harry strolled towards the back exit that would take him into Diagon Alley without a passing word to any in the bar. When he arrived in the back area he swore internally, realizing that without a wand he would struggle to get through the barrier. To his luck, however, some patrons came out of the tavern jovially, and hardly even gazed at Harry as they drew their wands to open the barrier. The bricks unfolded on themselves in seconds and Harry got a good look at the first place he had ever seen in the magical world.

This time Harry didn't even attempt to cover the smile that crossed his face. Another timeless place that would give him a familiar feeling of home. It seemed to look exactly the same as when he would enter it for the first time fifteen years from the date. The only thing missing was Weasley Wizard Wheezes at number 93 Diagon Alley. Instead, a large empty shop stood there, and Harry figured it would probably remain empty until Fred and George occupied it many years later.

Navigating through the streets Harry quickly made his way to Ollivander's Wand Shop, and took a deep breath as he approached the door. This was the first place Harry had discovered his connection with the Dark Lord. He could only hope in this new timeline without the Horcrux things might be different.

Entering the shop a young Garrick Ollivander looked up from his book with a look of surprise. The man's wild spiky hair was the same as Harry had always remembered it. The last time Harry had seen the older man they had escaped the jaws of death at Malfoy Manor. Their meeting that followed had been distinctly unpleasant. Harry would never forgive the man for doubting their chances after they had saved his life. Ollivander had told them they were all doomed if Voldemort held the Deathstick, and Harry supposed the man was right, but not for the correct reasons.

Biting down the resentment of their last meeting Harry tried to offer the man a smile, "Mr Ollivander, I presume?"

Ollivander looked up slowly at the young man analyzing him for a moment before offering a more genuine smile, "Ah, a Potter."

Without much thought, the older man turned, and immediately began looking through boxes of wands. Staring at the man in amazement he asked, "How did you know?"

The man laughed, "Oh, you look just like Fleamont and Charlus Potter. You could be a spitting image of Fleamont's oldest son James."

Surprised, Harry asked, "You know my family well?"

Ollivander nodded, "Oh yes, I was good friends with Charlus before…well before tragedy struck, of course. So, whose side are you related to? My family has given every Potter their wand at eleven and obviously, you are not eleven, so I am assuming you were raised in secret. Probably in America or on the continent?"

"America, sir. I am not supposed to talk about my family as you know we are-"

"Quite private, oh yes, of course. You could even be from the Peverell line of your family I suppose." The man speculated, knowing he would not get an answer.

A small tinge of bitterness crept into Harry. Ollivander claimed that he was friends with his Uncle Charlus, but the man had not mentioned him once in their encounters. Biting back the unpleasant feelings he watched as the older man pulled the first box off the shelf. Looking it over carefully Garrick seemed satisfied before offering it to Harry. The young man began to reach for it, but a sudden sense of dread flooded him, and he withdrew his hand as a negative feeling began to taint the back of his mind, "Not that one."

Ollivander raised his eyes in surprise, "You could sense the wand without touching it?"

"I am quite in tune with my magic. What is that one made of?" Harry asked cautiously.

The man nodded in understanding, "Nothing with Dragon Heartstring. I understand. A little temperamental for some."

Temperamental indeed. Harry's only encounters with dragons always ended quite poorly. He could immediately understand why his magic might react poorly to those types of cores, but he was unwilling to voice that opinion out loud.