Diagon Alley
Harry awoke early the next morning, rubbing his eyes as he yawned before gazing upon the sleeping giant - no, half giant, he corrected himself - who was still happily snoring on the broken down couch.
He still struggled to believe what he heard during the night. Between the revelations Hagrid had brought with him about his parents and their deaths, and Tom's worries and sins, he had a lot to think on, and he wasn't too certain on how he ought to feel. Truth be told, the feeling he did have was no small amount of anger. Anger at Voldemort for killing his parents and trying to kill him, anger at this Dumbledore-character for placing him with the Dursleys, a whole lot of anger towards said 'caretakers', and even some anger at Tom, for having framed Hagrid at one point, ruining his life in the process.
That last one infuriated Harry even more because he understood where Tom had come from to do such a thing, and just how easy it had been, both on Hagrid's part (who in their right mind raised a man-eating spider in a cupboard?) and on part of the establishment which - as always - only took a superficial glance at the matter before deciding what ought to be done.
'Something that is common, no matter where you look', Tom stated. Harry only grunted in agreement, not in the mood for a long conversation with the older soul right now, being still annoyed at him.
'You know, I do regret a lot I did', said soul continued. 'I was the furthest thing from an angel, before and during my time at Hogwarts. I like to think that everyone already had me pegged as a wrongdoer from the minute I was even born, but truth be told, I did nothing to dissuade them from that opinion, and I did go far - sometimes too far.'
Harry shook his head. 'Are you actually apologizing?'
Tom did his equivalent to shrugging. 'I never did so earnestly before, so... maybe. I suppose I'm simply trying to explain myself, to a degree. To you, to myself... it comes with the age, I suppose.'
Harry rubbed his eyes again. 'You know, the worst part is, I could see myself doing a lot of what you did. I simply didn't because it would prove everyone right about me, and I still don't want that.'
'And that is the big difference between us. Though I suppose that people assuming things on you will only get worse as you go to Hogwarts. After all, you not only survived the darkest wizard in common memory trying to kill you, but people think that somehow, you managed to vanquish him instead. They'll likely see you as some god on earth, some grand savior to worship - and get chummy with.'
'Beware crazy fans, got it', Harry grumbled.
'And gloryhounds', Tom added. 'Some moron will likely try to off you to embed himself in history, or because you killed his great hero Voldemort, or some other nonsense.'
Harry sighed. 'Why the hell is my life the way it is, and not normal?'
'When in doubt, blame Voldemort and Dumbledore', Tom offered.
Harry decided against commenting on Tom's dislike of Dumbledore, as he spied an owl landing before the window, tapping against it with its beak. Harry grinned and opened the window to let it in, and watched it fly towards the still snoring Hagrid to deliver a newspaper.
A quick question in Toms direction confirmed that this was, in fact, normal, though Harry began having his doubts when said owl began picking at the cloak under which Harry had slept.
'Should I wake Hagrid before the bird destroys his cloak?', he asked.
'Might be a good idea', Tom answered, and so, Harry managed to shake the man awake just enough for him to explain that the owl wanted payment for the newspaper it had brought.
'That bird is unusually rude about it', Tom observed. 'If it tried that with me when I still had my body and wand, I'd be having roasted owl for dinner.'
Eventually, with Hagrid's and Tom's help, Harry figured out how much to give the owl - five Knuts, small, bronze coins. As he watched the bird fly off with Tom's best wishes ('And stay the hell away from me or Harry, unless you want to be our next meal!'), and as Hagrid readied himself for the journey back, a thought crossed his mind.
"Err, Hagrid?", he asked. "How exactly am I supposed to pay for my school stuff? I mean, you heard uncle Vernon, and I don't think I have a penny to my name, so is there some kind of trust fund, or...?"
'There actually is', Tom answered first. 'I actually had to use it during my early schooling.'
Hagrid meanwhile had another answer. "Don'ya worry 'bout tha'", he said before standing and scratching his head. "Did'ya think yer parents'ld leave ya nothing?"
Harry blinked. "But, if their house blew up..."
"They didn' keep their gold inside their house, lad!", Hagrid laughed. "No, our first stop'll be Gringotts. Wizarding bank."
'Or that', Tom acquiesced as Hagrid jovially offered Harry another sausage and asked if he could maybe have a slice of cake. 'Not looking forward to Gringotts, though.'
Harry meanwhile had a different question. "Wizards have banks?", he wondered.
"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins", Hagrid answered as he munched away.
Harry meanwhile nearly dropped his sausage. "Goblins?", he asked flabberghasted.
'Yeah', Tom sighed. 'Hence my distaste for the bank. Picture all the jewish stereotypes smashed into one person, shrink that person in question down a bit, give it magic, and you've got one of those little pests. Greedy, moneyrubbing pains with crooked noses they are. Don't piss them off, though, they're nasty in a fight.'
Hagrid meanwhile went on about how you had to be an idiot to try and break into Gringotts, as it was the safest place in the world - except for maybe Hogwarts, which considering the things Tom had revealed last night seemed a bit unbelievable - and how had to go there himself anyway - "Dumbledore's orders" - and how the headmaster trusted him with matters of great importance.
'Of course he does. Hagrid is loyal, usually dependable, naive, and simple. The perfect henchman', Tom commented. Harry decided to ignore that as they moved towars the pier to leave - where Hagrid revealed that he had apparated here - which he hadn't enjoyed, hence why they had to take the boat back.
At first, Hagrid claimed that now that he had Harry with him, he wasn't supposed to do magic, but then asked Harry to maybe not mention anything if he were to speed things up a tad - Harry agreed, eager to see more magic and to get away from the Dursleys ('With any luck, they'll remain stranded here for eternity', Tom said, sounding far too hopeful).
As the boat sped through the water through the power of magic, Harry asked about why breaking into Gringotts was idiotic, learning that not only were the vaults deep beneath London, but also that they were heavily guarded by curses and dragons and armed goblins.
Then they started talking on the Ministry for Magic, and how it apparently kept screwing things up - typical government, Harry thought, and found that Tom agreed with him.
Tom also had opinions on how Dumbledore had seemingly refused the post of Minister for Magic. 'So he'll be the head for the international wizarding community, but not for domestic affairs? Says something about the man, especially since this Fudge is either a moron or a puppet, if he constantly begs for counsel. Not to mention that he still runs the parliament, high court, and the school where just about every mage goes to.'
'You did say that he's a schemer who only cares about the big picture', Harry carefully agreed. He still wanted to meet the man before really forming an opinion, but from what he knew right now, he didn't quite like Dumbledore.
'He's a right bastard', Tom grumbled.
The conversation then turned to why muggles had no idea magic existed, with Hagrid being of the opinion that they ought to keep away from them with all their problems, something with which Tom surprisingly enough agreed. 'I know how well muggles react when they're said no', he said. 'I do not want to see Hogwarts or Diagon Alley turn into another London or Hiroshima.'
Just then, they arrived at the port, and departed for the train station, with Hagrid sticking out like a massive sore thumb and commenting on crazy muggle inventions - like parking meters.
As they journeyed back to London, Harry went through the list of items he needed, as Tom provided commentary.
'Pewter for a potioneering cauldron? That was already a bad choice in my day. Potions take forever to brew in them, and I melted a bunch of them, and it wasn't lack of skill, either. I recommend taking the brass one instead - it'll brew faster, and is harder to melt.'
'Be sure to pick a telescope by Stargates Eye, they were the best in my day, and still ought to be, lest the current owner and manufacturer is a complete dunderhead.'
'Better take two winter cloaks, they have a tendency to disappear. Three for the gloves, they're even worse. Wait, they still have those hats? Good God, they were already out of favor in my day!'
'I recommend you get an owl, they're actually useful for delivering mail. Unless you want to put years of experience gained through Mrs. Figg to practice. Shame snakes aren't allowed anymore... wonder if that was my fault...'
'Pick the crystal phials, they look more elegant.'
'They're still using the same edition of History? What is this, Binns not having been banished yet?'
'Oh, Miranda did fulfill her dream! Always wondered...'
'Oh, good, they still have the no-brooms-for-firsties rule. At least there's some common sense left at Hogwarts...'
Harry meanwhile simply wondered just where in London they'd get all this stuff.
He got his answer some time later, when Hagrid directed him towards a pub which could only described as dingy - and that was being nice - called the 'Leaky Cauldron' which pedestrians did not seem to notice - magic, Harry suspected, just as he suspected Hagrid was a regular there, based on the reception he received.
'Never liked the place', Tom grumbled. 'Reminds me far too much of that damned orphanage.'
Harry was about to respond when the bartender suddenly realized who Harry was and of course alerted the rest of the pub to it. The next ten minutes were naturally a wild round of shaking hands, people introducing themselves and thanking him for saving them, all the while Harry did his best to not show his supposedly remarkable skill at apparition. He did recognize one person, a man who introduced himself as Dedalus Diggle; and he met one of his future professors at Hogwarts, a pale man named Quirrell, who could barely string two letters together without stuttering - 'And that's supposed to be your DADA teacher', Tom snorted. 'Hogwarts really did go down the drain, unless he's a genius at non-verbal casting.'
Eventually, Hagrid managed to pull him away from the crowd into the inner yard, where Harry took the chance to take a few deep breaths while his guide merrily talked about Quirell and how the poor man had supposedly met a vampire, an event which had turned him into the stuttering wreck Harry had met.
'Great, so he's a teacher scared of his own subject', Tom concluded. 'What the hell is Dumbledore doing with his school?'
Meanwhile, Hagrid fumbled around with his umbrella - which, as Tom revealed, contained the fragments of his old wand, which had been snapped when he'd been expelled (an information which made Harry vow to never let himself be expelled) - and opened up the path to Diagon Alley, which turned out to be a bustling alley, filled to the brink with buildings and people - mostly shoppers looking to buy various supplies, it seemed.
'Place hasn't changed since I last went here', Tom observed as they made for a large building made of white marble - Gringotts, as it turned out, complete with a goblin standing at the bronzed gates. Harry had to agree with Tom's earlier assessment, at least the goblin he had just seen did look a lot like what uncle Vernon would've called a classic jew, and as they moved through the bank, it seemed like it wasn't limited to that one goblin, either.
Meanwhile, Hagrid arranged for transport down to Harry's trust vault, to which he had the key through Dumbledore - 'Get that back as soon as you can!', Tom yelled in his mind, and Harry, having had the same thought, did just that and asked Hagrid if he could have it, to which the man thankfully agreed - and to some other vault - the one into which he ought to head on Dumbledore's orders. The clerk, still looking slightly annoyed at the mess Hagrid had made on his desk, swiftly ordered another goblin - a man named Griphook - to take them down to the vaults.
The journey down was... well, Harry had never been on a rollercoaster, but he imagined that it was like one of those. The carriage the three people and four souls used was almost too small for them, and the rails were a wild mix of turns and rises and falls. More than once, Harry felt the contents of his stomach turning, and more than once, Tom commented on just how thankful he was for no longer had a stomach to empty. Still, eventually, they arrived at vault 687 - the trust vault Harry's parents had left him for his education.
'You know, if that's the trust vault, did they have more vaults I don't have access to?', he wondered.
Tom once again 'shrugged'. 'I suspect that there's one more. From what I know, the Potters were quite wealthy in my day, and I doubt that changed since then. They were just one step beneath actual wizarding nobility, and back when I was in Hogwarts, there were plans to elevate them to that rank, but I don't know if anything ever came of it. Might be worth to look into at some point.'
Harry did a mental nod as he shoveled money into a bag Hagrid had given him for his supplies while the man explained how much which coin was worth. 'Another reason why I hate goblins', Tom commented. 'That system they came up with is utter garbage, and I think it was designed just to mess with us wizarding folk.'
Harry did not comment further, being to busy with trying to remember the rates - and keeping his stomachs content inside as they now headed to their other destination, Hagrid's special orders vault. 'I wonder what's in that package', Harry wondered, trying his hardest not to think on Griphooks grim jokes.
'Probably something powerful and shameless', Tom commented as they returned to the surface. There, Hagrid excused himself to grab a drink at the pub, leaving Harry alone, with only Tom as a guide.
Thankfully, not much had changed since Tom's school days, and he was able to navigate his host body through Diagon Alley without too much trouble, first going into a clothing store, Madam Malkin's robes for all occasions - where he nearly made a fool of himself in a conversation with a pale, blonde boy who thankfully did not recognize him and seemingly loved to hear himself talk.
'Looks like a ferret', Tom judged. 'Or a slimmer, magic version of Piggy.' Harry agreed with the latter, the boy's attitude really did remind him of Dudley, and he did not like it one bit. Tom though seemed to recognize something about him. 'Think I went to Hogwarts with his grandfather', he mused.
'So, how exactly does Hogwarts work?', Harry finally asked as the seamstress - seemingly Madam Malkin herself - took his measurements after said boy had left.
'The student body is organized into four different houses, each one named after one of the Four Founders. The decision on which house you join is made by an enchanted hat - the Sorting Hat, supposedly once the favored head apparel of one of said founders, Godric Gryffindor. That hat in turn makes the decision based on your primary characteristics, and your likely path in life. Supposedly, it's never wrong, though I do have my doubts on that.'
'What are these houses? And what do you mean, my primary characteristics?'
'First up, there's Gryffindor, house of the brave and the bold. Members of Gryffindor are usually reckless, quick to act - with or without thought and plan - and tend to have a problem with authority. Hagrid, oddly enough, was one of them, as was Dumbledore a few generations ago. Then, there's Ravenclaw, house of the studious and learnered, named after Rowena Ravenclaw. Its members are bookworms, the type to soak up a book and try to go beyond the general limitations of known magic - though in my day, there was a tendency towards the former rather than the latter, and I doubt that it changed much. Next up is Hufflepuff, house of the loyal and hard working, named after Helga Hufflepuff. That one has a bit of a reputation for being the safety net, though its members do tend to be reliable and obedient. Finally, there's Slytherin, house of the cunning and ambitious, named after Salazar Slytherin - my old house. Its members are generally the ones the Hufflepuffs would follow, the politicians, the leaders, those who would seek to make a well thought change in the world through whatever means necessary. It is reputed as a house of dark wizards, though, partly due to that last fact. Bloody fools who think so, though.'
Harry thought on Tom's words a bit. 'Which house do you think would be good for me?', he asked, curious.
'Well, I'd put you in Slytherin, but I'm biased', Tom answered. 'Though I do think you'd do well there, based on principle. Either that or Gryffindor, with your opinion on authority figures.'
'Do you know in which house my parents were?', he then asked.
'Haven't got the foggiest', was the answer. 'Though Hagrid ought to know. Based on how he described them, I'd wager your dad was a Gryffindor and your mom was a Ravenclaw.'
The rest of the shopping trip went relatively well, with Harry pestering Tom on Quidditch - something he had opinions on, while Harry himself found it to be a fun game - and a short argument with the cauldron vendor on the properties of pewter and brass cauldrons, which Harry won with Tom's help, along with a fresh brass cauldron. Not long after that, he also got a proper birthday gift - a snow white owl, which he named Hedwig.
'That bird better not peck either of us', was Tom's comment, to which Hedwig turned and looked at Harry, as though she had heard the disembodied voice in his head. Harry said as much to Tom, who merely grumbled.
Then came the time for Harry to finally (!) buy his wand. For that, he and Hagrid entered a store named Ollivanders, supposedly founded in 382 B. C. - and, as it turned out, run by the same man who had sold Tom his wand back in the day. 'I'm half convinced that old coot is immortal', was his comment.
Surprisingly, it seemed as though Ollivander had expected him - something which seemingly was normal for the man, at least according to Tom. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if it was, considering that the man already seemed to recall every wand he'd ever sold.
He then had the joy of testing a few wands to find the proper one. 'Wands are supposedly somewhat sentient, and they do respond to whoever conquers it', Tom commented. 'Though I do think that the old man puts far too much stock in this stuff.'
Eventually, Harry either picked or was picked by a wand said old man described as "very odd", a piece of holly wood, eleven inches long, with a phoenix feather for a core - a feather from the same bird which had given Voldemorts wand its core, the same wand which had killed Harrys parents and given him the scar. "A wand that had done terrible things, great things, in its masters name", as Ollivander described it.
Tom meanwhile had picked up on the phoenix feather. 'My wand also had one of those', he revealed as they returned to the train station. 'In the same combination with yew in thirteen and a half inches. Bloody hell, what are the odds of that?'
'Maybe he used your wand? Like some people take trophies?', Harry suggested.
'That would mean I fell to him at one point...', Tom mused, unconvinced. 'Ah well, we can resolve this some other time.'
'I'm more curious on the twin cores', Harry added. 'Do you think that means anything?'
'Could mean everything, could mean nothing', was the answer. 'I'd not dwell on that too much for the time being. I would advise preparing for Hogwarts until september. Wouldn't want you to go in unprepared, now.'