Diagon alley
Harry woke up with a start early in the morning. He could tell the sun was outside, but kept his eyes tight shut. He felt Hydrus curled up on his back, as that always happened whenever he slept on his stomach.
It was all some coma or something. You fell down the stairs, or something, said the voices. He told himself they were right-- they had to be right, with how he talked back to Vernon. Twice. But then again, it was all a dream. You didn't lose your temper, you aren't on some disgusting rock in the middle of nowhere, you didn't have any letters. They said, but he truthfully didn't believe the last bit. He didn't want to, atleast.
And when he heard a mouse squeaking over his arm, he just knew it wasn't a dream, or some comatose imagination his brain made up. But instead of opening his eyes and waking up, he sat there for a minute, just incase it really was some fantasy. Maybe he wanted it to be a dream. If it was a dream- perhaps he really had been getting too imaginative. And maybe the mouse was just something Hydrus was eating. A bit gross, but he'd take his chances.
There was a loud tapping noise.
Must be Aunt Petunia knocking.
"I'm up!" He yelled absentmindedly, before she could start screaming. He really wanted to go back to his dream. But the tapping continued. Hydrus seemed to have waken up from it as he slithered around Harry's shoulders as he sat up with a groan, and opened his eyes. Instead of the toy-filled room, or his cupboard, or even some hospital, he was in the dingy little hut, on the rock in the sea, and that Hagrid's scruffy owl was hitting the window with a talon.
He shrieked, but jumped and opened the window. The owl dropped a newspaper on Hagrid- who had still been sleeping- and flew to the floor, and pecked at Hagrid's coat.
"Hey! Don't do that!" Harry tried, but whenever he went near, it snapped at him and continued to attack the coat.
"Hagrid!" He said loudly, trying to not launch himself at the thing. He had enough sense not to-- he learned the hard way that birds were mean-- but only when you were mean first. Maybe owls were different? The only birds he'd fought were finches and blackbirds trying to get his carefully-hidden food. But owls looked much meaner. Mean little glinting eyes and a clicking beak that could actually hurt.
"Look in the pockets," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. His coat seemed to be nothing but pockets. He'd pulled out bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, and teabags before he finally found a handful of strange-looking coins. "Which ones do I give him?"
"Five knuts,"
Unhelpful. Ofcourse magical people had their own money.
"I don't know which ones those are, Hagrid," said Harry. Had Hagrid been up, he would've been subject to Harry's glaring.
"The little bronze ones. Five o' those." Hagrid said sleepily.
Harry counted out five of the bronze coins and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put them into a small leather pouch. It flew out the open window right as Hagrid yawned loudly, sitting up to stretch. "Best be off bright an' early. Lots ter buy today. We better be off now, 'cos we gotta go all the way ter London ter get yer things fer school."
Harry nodded as he turned the coins over and over in his hand. He supposed now was as good a time as any, before they went anywhere.
"Hagrid, I don't have any money. And Uncle Vernon isn't going to pay for my stuff either," He said, unable to hide the bit of sadness in his voice.
"Ha!" Hagrid chuckled loudly. "Don't worry bout that! D'yeh think yer parents really wouldn't leave yeh nothin'?"
"Wasn't the house destroyed, Hagrid? You said it yourself. They've got a bank in the wizarding world, or something?"
Hagrid chucked. "Righ' on the gold, Harley! There's prolly a good summat fer yeh in that vault yer parents left fer yeh, but come on! Lets go, first stop is Gringotts. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold-- and yeh've got that cake too, yeh know."
"Harry, and- right- I get wizards would need banks-- normal banks probably couldn't hold all the magic... or something. I guess. But, er, how are wizards gonna run a bank?" Harry asked. He had more questions, of course-- but he had enough sense to not ask them all. Hagrid was larger than Vernon-- Harry would rather not end up with a concussion when he got tired of answering.
"Just one bank. Run by Goblins. Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. No safer place fer all yer money an' magical items. 'Cept maybe Hogwarts, but s'not a bank. I'll say this, Harry, never get on a Goblin's bad side. But I doubt yeh will, yeh've got more than yeh'll ever need in yer own vault." Hagrid explained. "Alright! We best be off now, eh? Yeh got everythin'? Come on then,"
Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. He didn't see another boat. "How'd you get here? Can wizards teleport or something?"
Hagrid chucked. "Yeah, summat o' the sort, but not me. I flew here." He said.
"Flew? Well, that aught to be magic. How much are you allowed to do?" Harry asked.
"Not any more now that I've got yeh. We're gonna have to take the boat."
"Well, surely no one will know if you just flew, and I wouldn't say a word," Harry swore. He made his best attempt at soft eyes, the kind he'd seen Dudley do when he got the ever-uncommon no for an answer. "How are the Dursleys meant to get back if we take the boat?"
"Alright, fine. I'll make the boat fly, and I'll send it back." Hagrid complied, tapping the boat with the pink umbrella after he and Harry stepped in. It slowly lifted off the water, then up to reach the door of the shack, and then flew off to the woods.
"Eh, yeh wouldn't happen ter know if anyone lives out here, would yeh?" He asked.
"I don't think anyone would. We're probably a while from the nearest hotel and even further from the next bus stop. I- I don't know. I don't live out here. We're here because Uncle Vernon wanted to stop getting letters." Harry explained. Was that good? It wasn't an answer, he supposed, but it was close enough. Right?
Hagrid nodded. "Muggles, I tell yeh. Don't know nothin' about our world but act like they know everythin' about how ter avoid it."
They flew in silence for a few minutes before Harry wondered. "Hagrid, why would anyone try and rob Gringotts? I mean, there's different types of coins, aren't there? You can't be that low on the barrel. And what's so much about magical artifacts?" He asked before he could stop himself.
Hagrid chuckled behind newspaper, The Daily Prophet. Harry knew very well that people normally liked to be left alone while they read the paper- especially Vernon- but he just had too many questions. Maybe just as long as he didn't ask too many, he'd be alright. "Not just artifacts an' coins, Harry. Spells, enchantments. People can be that low on the barrel if they ain't smart 'bout their spendin'. Some say there's dragons. Let me tell yeh summat."
He steadied himself properly on the boat to face Harry. Was he going to be told off? Had he already asked too many questions?
"Gringotts is hundreds of miles below London. Maybe under the underground, if yeh can even go that low. It'd take weeks to find some way out, even if you did manage ter get yer hands on summat."
Harry was surprised at first, but he quickly pulled himself together. "But if it's so... so that, why would anyone take the chance?"
"Well Harry, that's why yeh'd have ter be mad! Yer not going to try and rob Gringotts if yeh got any sense." Hagrid said with a smile, and continued to read his newspaper. Harry thought more.
"Hydrus, you don't think anyone'd try to rob my vault, would you? If I really was rich, then I'd know." He whispered, pretending to look out on the water. He was, luckily, wearing one of Dudley's old jackets that were much too big for him, and while the pockets had holes in them, Hydrus had become very good at not falling out. "Maybe... you could be buy me tasssty mice."
Harry snorted, but told Hagrid he sneezed, saying it must've been from the rain. "You know more about where I'm supposed to be than I do. Maybe you're magic too." He hissed quietly. Hagrid clicked his tongue.
"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," He muttered, turning the page.
"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked. Dang it! He had to stop asking questions!
"'Course," Hagrid answered. "They wanted Dumbledore for Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' for advice."
"What does a Ministry of Magic do? And why's he the minister if he's bad at his job?" Was it even worth trying to stop himself anymore?
"Well, their main job is ter keep from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." Hagrid unintentionally ignored the second part of his question.
"I get they don't need to know, but why can't they?"
"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions ter their problems. Nah, we're best ter be left alone." Hagrid said as the boat came to a stop a couple feet away from Vernon's car. It floated slightly above the ground. "Well, ter the nearest station, eh?"
He and Harry got out of the boat before he tapped the boat with the pink umbrella and it flew back to the rock.
They walked up the stone steps, and to the little town from the station. Everyone stared at Hagrid. Harry couldn't blame them. A man twice, very possibly even almost three times the height of anyone there, and he pointed out perfectly normal things saying, "See that, Harry? The things Muggles can dream up, eh?"
Harry constantly apologised to anyone Hagrid accidentally knocked into, saying his 'uncle' didn't come out of his home very often.
They had reached the station after a lot of apologies. There was a train to London in five minutes when they arrived; Hagrid, who didn't understand muggle money, gave the money to Harry to buy their tickets.
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like some yellow circus tent.
"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket with a nod. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list o' everythin' yeh need."
Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed earlier, and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
-Three sets of plain work robes (black)
-One plain pointed hat (black) for formal wear
-One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
-One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
-Multiple pyjama sets & daily wear for outside of class
Please note that all pupils' uniformed clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
-The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
-A History of Magic By Bathilda Bagshot
-Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
-A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
-One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
-Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
-Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
-The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
-1 wand
-1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
-1 set glass or crystal phials
-1 telescope
-1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a dog OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS UNLESS ALLOWED ON THE SCHOOL TEAM
Harry read the letter with a furrowed brow-- he would've liked to fly, but he'd rather not get in trouble, and surely whatever the school team was, he wouldn't make it. But then he realised. He had never been to London before. And while Hagrid had seemed to know where to go, and where to be, but he was completely unaware of how to get there the way ordinary people would've. He got stuck in plenty of things, and complained on how the seats were simply too small, or how the train was too slow.
"I don't know how Muggles manage everyday," He said, as they walked up a broken escalator, that just quite happened to have been working before Hagrid stepped on it. Through the streets, Hagrid was large enough that the crowds parted, and all Harry had to do was keep close. Though none of the stores looked like a place you'd get a wand or a cauldron from, Harry assumed things were just more hidden. He would've considered this all being a sham, but he had seen Hagrid do actual magic, and the Dursleys weren't the type to go through all this just to screw with him and get him out of their way. They'd rather drop him off at an orphanage than go through the trouble.
"This is it," Hagrid came to an abrupt halt, and Harry knocked into his back. "The Leaky Cauldron. Real famous in our world."
Harry's nose scrunched up involuntarily, but he kept semi-optimistic. It may have been a dingy looking pub, where Hydrus was likely certain to find an unnatural amount of mouses and rats, but it was probably important for whenever he'd need anything magical, seeing that it felt to only be visible to he and Hagrid. Before he could question it, Hagrid led him inside.
It was, admittedly, very dark and, well, dingy for a famous place. Some women sat in the corner drinking shot glasses of sherry, one smoking a long pipe. A little man with a top hat spoke to the bartender, who looked rather old and reminded Harry of a toothless walnut. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid, as it went completely silent as he walked in. People waved, smiled, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom. On official Hogwarts business," Hagrid said, placing a large hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Good Lord-- can it be--?" gasped the bartender.
The entire Leaky Cauldron had gone silent once again.
"Bless my soul..." whispered the bartender. "Harry Potter.... My, what an honor."
He rushed out from behind the bar and he grabbed Harry's hand with tearfilled eyes. Harry almost pulled back, but told himself, despite the argues of the voices, the man was harmless.
"Welcome back, Potter, welcome back," The bartender said, and Harry didn't know what to say. His ears began to burn when he noticed everyone was staring at him. There was the sound of chairs scraping, and the next moment, Harry was suddenly surrounded by people wanting handshakes.
"Doris Crockford, Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand-- I'm all of a flutter,"
"Delighted, Potter, just can't tell you. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
Harry finally recognised someone.
"I've seen you before! You bowed to me once in a shop!" He said, and Dedalus Diggle's hat fell off in a fizzy.
"He remembers! Did you hear that? He remembers me!" The little man jumped.
By now, Harry had probably shaken everyone's hand atleast twice, and Doris Crockford probably atleast five. Hagrid stood to the side, watching with a smile, until a very pale man walked up.
"Professor Quirrel! Harry, Professor Quirrel here will be one o' yer teachers at Hogwarts. Best ter get acquainted now," Hagrid said.
"P-P-Potter," Quirrel stuttered. "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What do you teach, sir?" Harry asked.
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts.." The Professor replied, as if it scared him. "N-not that you need it, eh, P-P-Potter? You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? Ive g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires m-myself,"
He looked even more scared, if possible. But everyone else in the bar wanted more Harry, and seemingly, less of Quirrel talking to him. It took atleast ten minutes to get away from the crowd after Quirrel left-- and Harry figured the only reason they left at all was because Hagrid seemed to notice that he was starting to feel uncomfortable.
"Ey! We'd better ter get on, y'know, lots ter buy. Come on, Harry," Hagrid said as Harry shook Doris Crockford's hand an eighth time.
"Finally... Humanss are so incompetent... You're better off with serpents, little ssnake.." Hydrus hissed, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Even the voices agreed-- and he was inclined to the same-- snakes didn't tend to bully you. Did they?
"Yeh alright?" Hagrid asked. Harry nodded. Hagrid grinned as he led him to a small courtyard.
"Told yeh you were famous. Even Professor Quirrel was tremblin' ter meet yeh. Mind, he's always tremblin'."
Harry nodded in response. He would've asked why, but thought he didn't quite need to know. And he didn't really care, so he'd better not waste a question.
"Now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid wondered, searching a couple of his pockets. When he finally found it, he started to count the bricks. Harry tried to not stare oddly at him, but this was a little, well, odd. When he eventually began to tap the bricks with his umbrella, Harry was surprised to see the bricks he touched shook, and a small hole grew to the size of an archway.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley." Hagrid said. He grinned when he saw Harry's excitement. When they stepped through, Harry looked back over his shoulder just in time to see the archway turn back into a solid wall.
There were all types of shops around. In the nearest one, the sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons just outside. Hagrid followed his line of sight and chuckled. "Yeah, you'll be needin' one o' those, but we gotta get yer money first."
Harry wished he had about four more pairs of eyes. He turned his head every direction, trying to look at everything at once-- a plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce-- they're mad..."
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eyelops Owl Emporium- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. A shop down, several boys that looked around Harry's age-- or how the other kids at school looked-- had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.
"Look," he heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two-Thousand! Fastest ever..."
There were shops selling robes, selling telescopes with strange silver instruments that Harry had never once seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon and all other sorts of planets...
"Gringotts," said Hagrid suddenly. Harry looked up.
They had reached a tall, snowy white building that stood tall over the little shops, Harry was shocked to see, standing beside the burnished bronze doors, in a scarlet and gold uniform--
"That's a Goblin. They all work here." Hagrid explained. The goblin was about half a head shorter than Harry, with a pointed face and beard, and what Harry could only consider very long fingers and feet. The goblin bowed as they walked inside, and Harry, unsure of what else to do, bowed in return. Now, they were facing another pair of doors, silver, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Harry shivered as he read.
"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try and rob it." said Hagrid.
When they walked through the door, they were now in a vast marble hall, about a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and even more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid made a beeline for the counter, and Harry followed behind as closely as he could.
"Morning," Hagrid spoke to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta- er- Ms Harley Potter's vault."
"Have you got the key, sir?" The goblin asked, not looking up at him. Hagrid nodded, before emptying his pockets onto the counter. He scattered a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers, and he wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin to their right weigh a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," Hagrid said at last , holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked up to get a close look at it. "Hm. That would seem to be the correct key."
"And, I've got a letter from Professor Dumbledore here. It's about the you-know-what in vault seven-hundred thirteen." Hagrid explained as the goblin read the letter.
"Very well. Griphook!" The goblin called.
Griphook was yet another goblin. One Hagrid crammed all the dog biscuits back into his pockets, he and Harry and followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall. It must've been five seconds until Harry could no longer stand the pestering of the voices and just had to ask; "What's in vault seven-hundred thirteen?"
"Can't tell yeh that," Hagrid said as Harry raised an eyebrow. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. I been trusted, an' it's more'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
Griphook held a door open for them. Harry, who expected more marble, was surprised when they were instead in a narrow stone passageway, lit with flaming torches. There was a steep slope downward and little railway tracks were illuminated by the torches. Griphook whistled, and a small cart came toward them. They climbed in-- Hagrid with only minor difficulty-- and were off.
At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember-- left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left-- but it was impossible. He'd already forgotten the first turn. The cart knew its own way because Griphook wasn't steering.
Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, and he barely managed to keep them open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the edge of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but it was sadly too late as they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
Hagrid meanwhile, had a very green complexion past his ruffled hair. When the cart finally came to a stop, Hagrid had to slouch over a wall to stop his knees from trembling. Griphook unlocked the door, and a heap of green smoke came out, but when it was gone, Harry gasped. More gold coins than he'd ever need, some silver, and a few bronze knuts.
"That's all yers, Harry."
"Mine?" He asked with an almost mischievous smile. He thought back to all the times the Dursleys called him so expensive to keep, when there was enough to pay him off for his entire life sitting here. Even more than that! He piled tons into a small, seemingly bottomless pouch as Hagrid explained how the coins worked.
"Yeh see this little gold one? A galleon. Seventeen sickles-- that's these little silver ones here-- to a Galleon, twenty nine knuts to a sickle. It's easy enough. Jus' ask if yeh still confused. Right- got all yeh need?"
Harry nodded as Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred thirteen now, please. But, could we go a little more slowly?"
Griphook shook his head. "One speed only." He said, and back on the cart they were. The speed increased as they went deeper, and the temperature decreased every few seconds. Harry shivered while Hagrid's face turned a nasty shade of green. When they got to vault seven hundred thirteen, it had no keyhole.
"Stand back." Griphook instructed. The door melted away at the touch of one of his fingers. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." He said.
"How often do you check that anyone's gotten trapped?" Harry asked.
"Once every ten years or so." Griphook answered. Harry tried to look under Hagrid's arm to see any jewels or anything, but only saw a little package in brown paper on the ground. Hagrid picked it up before Harry could guess what it was, and put it deep in his coat.
"Come on, back on this infernal cart. And don't talk ter me on the way back, its best if I keep me mouth shut," Hagrid said, his face already looking pale. Harry nodded as he tried to warm himself up. He was getting colder by the second.
One incredibly unnerving cart ride later, they stood in the sunlight, outside Gringotts. Harry allowed himself another smile. He knew for a fact that the money he had in the pouch in his pocket was more money than Dudley had ever had.
"Might as well get yer uniform. Madame Malkin's there, yeh see?" Hagrid nodded his head towards a robes shop. Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a sign read. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I went fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? Hate them Gringotts carts." Hagrid asked. Harry nodded, and walked to Madame Malkin's alone.
He was, admittedly, nervous, but things could be worse, couldn't they? Madame Malkin was a stubby looking woman, with a bright smile on her face. She looked quite kind. "Hogwarts, dear?" She asked. Harry nodded. "Got the lot here-- another young man being fitted up just now, infact."
He looked at the back of the shop; A blond boy with pointed features and long, sharp ears stood on a footstool while a witch pinned up his robes. Madame Malkin place Harry beside him, and began to pin a robe she put over his head.
"Hello," Said the blonde. He had a drawling sort of voice, and sounded a bit bored, but Harry couldn't really blame him, he supposed. "Hogwarts too?"
"Yes." Harry responded, as he tried to shift around Hydrus to not be poked without disturbing Madame Malkin too much.
"My father's next door buying my books, and my mother's up the street looking at wands. I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms once I'm done here. I don't get why first years can't have their own-- they hardly ever make the team."
"I think you're right. I mean, it won't kill us," Harry shrugged. He still didn't know what the team was, but he supposed it was for flying.
The blond boy looked at him and lowered his tone just above a murmur. "I plan to bully father into getting me one, and I'll get it in somehow."
Harry snorted. This boy reminded him of Dudley in a way, though he could see the differences between them. Mostly. But he supposed this boy could've just been brought up nicer.
"Have you got your own broom?" The boy asked.
Harry shook his head.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
He shook his head again. He didn't know what Quidditch was, but if he got to fly, he wanted to. He hoped flying was as interesting at it seemed.
"I do. Father says it'd be a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I agree. Do you know what house you'll be in?"
Harry shook his head again. "I'll be in whatever 'll take me." he said, though he hadn't the slightest idea what houses were. He was feeling stupider by the minute, and the nagging voices were not any help. "If it's not good, I'll just make due, I guess."
"Hm. Nobody knows what house they'll be in until they get there, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All my family has been. I can't imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" The blond asked.
"I wouldn't. I'll just pretend I'm not in it." Harry said. His face must've been red-- he didn't like not knowing so much. It wasn't a pleasing feeling for him. He was supposed to be smart, he should've known. An unwelcome feeling settled in his stomach and his ears felt weird and really hot.
"Say, look at that man," the blond said, nodding to the window. Hagrid stood there, with two ice creams in his hands.
"That's Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts. He's a little odd, but he's been a real help to me." said Harry, ecstatic to finally know something, and the boy nodded. The look on his face, however, only made the feeling harder to ignore.
"I've heard of him. He's the game keeper isn't he? I've heard that he's some savage. My father told me he lives in a hut on the school grounds and gets drunk every now and then and..." He spoke, and it looked like he almost wished to say something else, but he refrained when he saw Harry frowning immensely. "N-nevermind. My father's opinion... er, is-- Hagrid-- with you? Where are your parents?"
Harry averted his eyes away and involuntarily huffed. "Dead. I was raised by Muggles." He muttered, but he was a little glad. Atleast this boy couldn't tell he was who he was, and hadn't even commented on his skin tone like other kids did. Even the voices didn't have anything foul to say.
"Oh... sorry." The boy responded, his face was a little pink and his ears lowered a bit. Weird. Did ears normally do that? They couldn't've- he didn't think the school kids had pointed ears. Maybe it was a magic thing.
"They were like us though, if you know what Muggles are, weren't they? And your ears,"
Harry nodded. So the ears were a magic thing. He didn't know why, but the boy looked kind of uncertain, like he was just trying to come up with something to say. Was he bored already?
"I don't think they should let the Muggles in, anyway. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, I presume. I'm shocked some of them can even find Diagon Alley. I think they should keep it in the old families who know they're magic. Hey, what's your surname anyway--?"
Before Harry could think up an answer, Madame Malkin accidentally poked his knee with her needle, but then told him he was all done. Harry, looking for any reason to not have to tell the blond his name, hopped off the stool.
"I'll see you at Hogwarts. You can just call me... um... Harley, er- if we meet anytime before then. I don't really do this, but, friends?" He asked, and stuck out his hand. He'd seen Dudley do it before, to be polite, and he had the feeling it'd be alright here.
"Draco. I'll meet you on the train. Friends," The blond insisted, taking his hand and shaking it.
Had he actually just made a friend? Harry went outside, still puzzled as Hagrid gave him one of the ice cream cones. Chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts. Harry thanked him before deciding he'd rather be quiet. He thought best when he was quiet-- mostly because he could spend more energy trying to ignore the rude voices instead of wasting that energy talking.
"What's up?" asked Hagrid.
Harry shook his head, finishing his ice cream. He felt as though he'd spoken enough for a bit anyway. Hagrid seemed to understand, because he didn't ask any further questions. A little later, they had stopped for parchment and quills. Harry was downright excited when he found a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote. He'd have to see if he could put some in a pen.
"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?" He asked abruptly, picking out and counting the coins he'd needed.
"Blimey, Harry, keep forgettin' how little yeh know! Not knowin' about Quidditch!"
It didn't seem Hagrid noticed, but it didn't make Harry feel better at all and his frown returned.
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like-- what's ih'-- football in the muggle world. But it's played up in the air on brooms and there's four balls. Sorta hard ter explain the rules."
Harry nodded. "And, what are the Hogwarts houses? And Slytherin and Hufflepuff."
"Well, there's four o' em, fer starters. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a bunch o' duffers, but I think they just learn different. Think a little better than the rest o' us, y'know? Don't think I don' ever seen one o' em that ain't got a nice heart deep down. Now Slytherin! Not a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. Real bad, righ'. Er, not tha' they're all bad. But it don't help tha' You-Know-Who was in Slytherin, too." Hagrid explained.
"You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, and Hagrid clicked his tongue. "Years an' years ago." He said, then began to explain the other two; Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
They bought Harry's books- and a lot extra- in a shop called Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling-- there were books the size of paving stones bound in thick leather; Books the size of postage stamps in covers of smooth silk; Books full of peculiar symbols and a few with nothing in them at all. Harry had been sneaky enough to hide a book called Curses and Countercurses under the pile of books that he carried. He really liked books, and for once, he had the money to pay for them instead of stealing them!
"Yeh don't need all them books, Harry!" Hagrid insisted.
Harry shrugged. "I don't need them, but I would do plenty well with them! They're just books, and it's not gonna hurt me to know a little extra," He argued as he paid for them.
Hagrid wouldn't let him get the solid gold cauldron he wanted, unfortunately-- ("It says pew'er on yer list,") his argument of "it still being a cauldron" hadn't worked, but Hagrid had let him get a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then, they went to the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for the horrible smell lingering in the sir-- a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood off to the side; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powers lined the walls with lots of papers labelling them; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws that Hydrus kept snapping at hung from the ceiling.
Harry was amazed by the idea of potions. All types of things he could buy- put together- and turn into something consumable? Unbelievable! He'd have to give Dudley a potion and call it orange juice. While Hagrid asked the man behind to counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients, Harry examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and tiny, glittering black beetle eyes for five Knuts a scoop.
When they went outside, Hagrid checked his list again.
"Just yer wand left. An' I've gotta get yeh a birthday present."
Harry's face went very red.
"No-- you don't have to--"
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what. I'll get yeh an animal! You pick out anything, and I'll get it for yeh!" Hagrid said, chuckling loudly as he lead Harry to the Magical Menagerie. And Harry couldn't stop looking back at a little niffler he found that had escaped it's cage, trying to pry open his coin pouch.
He was constantly saying thank you to Hagrid as the niffler ran all around it's (now relocked) cage.
"Don' mention it," Hagrid replied. "Don' expect yeh've got a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now-- best place fer wands 'round here, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
A magic wand. This was what Harry had been really looking forward to. Sure, he probably wouldn't be allowed to do magic outside of school, and he didn't know any actual spells yet, but the Dursleys didn't know that.
When they reached Ollivander's, narrow and shabby-looking with peeling letters over the door, Harry couldn't help but marvel. This was the best place for wands? A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the shop's depths the moment they stepped in. The inside was small, and only had one chair which Hagrid sat on to wait, but Harry found it so amazing that this place had been that of the best wand maker around. The wizarding world didn't seem to have very high standards, but even he could appreciate the likes of this-- the place reminded him strongly of the library, with the walls lined with thousands of narrow boxes piled very neatly up to the ceiling-- the dust and the silence was just perfect, and unlike the library, everything, even the air, seemed to tingle with some sort of secret magic.
"Good afternoon," A soft voice said suddenly. Harry jumped, and Hagrid must have jumped too, because there was a loud crunching noise that indicated he had gotten off the spindly chair.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes staring at them.
"Hi," Harry mumbled, trying to not say anything too blunt. The voices were giving him plenty of ideas.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes, I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harley Potter. Or is it truly Harry now."
Harry nodded, but he was slightly set off at his eyes. It wasn't a question, but a statement. But he had been famous, so people had to know he'd be coming to Hogwarts soon-- if only that explained how the man knew what his name used to be-- but as long as he wasn't being called Harley, Harry could bear it.
"You have your mother's eyes, hm, yes-- brown and green," the man continued. "So odd, at first, but so bright. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of black walnut. Nice wand for charm work."
Ollivander moved closer to Harry, who moved back. He wished Ollivander would blink or something. Those silvery eyes were creepy and offsetting. "James, on the other hand, kept a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it-- it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. And then there was Regulus, your other father, the youngest of two and the worst fate of five-- just as quiet as you when he came in. Elm. Nine and a half inches. A bit springy, but not too much. Thestral hair. A wand of my father's making."
Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. He could see himself reflected in the misty eyes. He backed up more. Other father? Did he have more than one? He'd only ever heard mention of "immigrant Potter." But, again, the Dursleys wouldn't mention a thing about his family around him-- might give him ideas. Somehow-- they always said he'd get ideas that weren't good, and there wasn't much he could do.
"And that's where..."
Ollivander brushed aside Harry's bangs and touched the lightning scar on his forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," Ollivander said. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... oh, if I'd known what the wand was going out into the world to do...."
Harry defensively pushed away the finger and pushed his bangs back in place, nodding. To his relief, Ollivander had spotted Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," replied Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Ollivander, suddenly stern.
"Er-- yes, they did, yes," Hagrid said, shuffling his feet. "Still got the pieces, though!" He added brightly.
"Yes, um, that aside... could I get a wand, too, sir?" Harry interrupted. "Ah, yes. Well now, Mr Potter. Let me see." Ollivander pulled a large tape measure out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Er-- I've never used a wand, but I can write with both my hands. My right's the best," Harry said.
"Yes, that works too. Hold out your arm. That's it."
He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. He narrowly missed tapping Hydrus multiple times, who hissed in anger every time. As he measured, he spoke as if words he'd prepared to say many times before, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons and many more. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
"I wouldn't imagine so. That's another person's wand." Harry blurted, struggling to suppress the urge to push away the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils on it's own. Ollivander didn't seem to notice Harry had spoken out of turn-- he was busy was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Harry waved the wand around a bit, feeling he looked a little stupid when it did nothing and Ollivander snatched it from him immediately.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try--"
Harry tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Ollivander.
"No, no-- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Harry tried. And tried, and tried. He had no idea what Ollivander was waiting for, and he didn't know what to expect when one of the wands would finally work. The pile of tried wands was rising higher and higher, but the more wands Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the more cheerful he seemed to become. Did he like that Harry was failing? It wasn't exactly a pleasing feeling.
"Tricky customer, hm? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere-- I wonder, now-- yes, why not... this certain combination, I haven't done in a while-- yew and phoenix feather... just perhaps... incase. Ten inches, very supple."
Harry took the wand uncertainly. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, and Ollivander had gone more than three seconds without taking the wand out his hand. He raised the wand to his head and brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A stream of silver and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework as it fell. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good! Well, well, well... how curious... how very, very curious..."
He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..."
"Excuse me, sir," Harry said. "but what's so curious?"
Ollivander looked at Harry with his pale stare. Harry tried not to make a comment.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather in is you wand, gave another feather-- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother-- why, its brother gave you that scar."
Harry raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew, just as your own. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we best expect great things from you, Mr Potter... be it spectacular or terrible. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great."
"Sir, you already told me about his wand. 'Very powerful, and in the wrong hands'," Harry mimicked, not being able to help himself. He was sure he did not like Ollivander very much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
"Do try to not give in to temptation," he said, as they left. "you too can be powerful. But not terrible."
"Hagrid, I don't like him." Harry blurted out, as soon as they were out of earshot and Ollivander had returned inside. Hagrid chuckled.
"I get it, Harry." He said, as they made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the brick wall, and back through the Leaky Cauldron. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the niffler that looked to them like a small badger in Harry's hands. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.
"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said. He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry was silent, and kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. Everything looked weird, even what he already knew wasn't weird. He was the weird one now-- so why did everything look so... unfamiliar?
"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.
"I'm..." Harry started, but cut himself off. He wasn't sure he could explain. Everything felt totally out of order. He took a bite of his burger before trying again.
"Everyone thinks I'm special," He finally said. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Ollivander, but I don't know a thing about magic. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't even know what happened when Voldemort-- s-sorry, I mean, the night my parents died. I'm just some unlucky kid. And my wand too! What does my wand have to do with me? So what, it's kind of like, er, You-Know-Who's? It's a piece of wood with a feather in it..."
Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind all the hair on his face, he held a very kind smile.
"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fas' enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be jus' fine. Jus' be yerself an' yeh haven' gotta worry 'bout a thing. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts. I did even though I got expelled, an' I still do, matter'a fact. Jus' be yerself, hear?"
Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.
"Yer ticket. For the train to Hogwarts. On first o' September, yeh gotta get ter King's Cross. Well, it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, just send an owl. There's gonna be one waitin' fer yeh until school starts. When yeh meet 'er, yeh can name 'er if yeh like. And yeh don't gotta worry 'bout nothin', she'll know where ter find me. See yeh soon, Harry."
The train pulled out of the station as Hagrid waved. Harry wanted to watch until Hagrid was out of sight, so he rose in his seat and pressed his forehead against the window, but Hagrid had been gone.
"Magic." He told himself, sitting back down right and quietly introducing Hydrus to his new niffler, who he had promptly named Sly. She was a bit wild at first, disappearing from sight and returning, shoving other people's belongings into a pouch on her stomach. Harry was already sure they would get along very well. Hydrus wasn't nearly small enough to be too much of a help with stealing things, but Sly was just perfect.
Maybe everything wasn't black and white. Maybe only at the Dursleys was the world so colourless. And maybe things wouldn't be too bad. Maybe that was too many maybes, but it never hurts to be optimistic once in a while.