Diagon Alley
Albus followed Hagrid outside of the cottage to meet the boat Vernon had bought. Albus didn't think it looked as if it would hold Hagrid's weight but didn't say anything to avoid offending the half-giant.
"Say Harry...are you all righ'? You seemed right eager to get out of there." Hagrid noticed.
Albus swallowed. What was he supposed to say? That he didn't know what the bloody hell was going on? That he was his father's son trapped in his father's body? That he thinks someone poured something strange into his morning pumpkin juice and that this whole thing was one giant hallucination?
"Ummm...Hagrid...I...I don't know how to explain it. It sounds crazy." Albus said.
"Don't worry, Harry. Nothing sounds too crazy when you live in the magical world." Hagrid tried to assure him. Albus shook his head.
"No, you don't understand...I'm...I'm not Harry Potter."
Hagrid looked at him with an odd expression on his face.
"Well of cours' you're Harry Potter. What else could you be? The scar on your forehead is right proof enough." he said.
Startled, Albus looked over the side of the boat to see his own reflection for the first time. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had looked at himself while he was his Dad.
Hagrid was right, of course. When Albus looked at his own reflection, there was a very prominent lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.
"Bloody hell." Albus cursed. He sat back in the boat and put his head in his hands.
"Are you all righ', Harry?" Hagrid asked, concerned.
Albus shook his head.
"No, I'm not. I'm going mad." he said.
"We're all a little mad, Harry. Nothin' wrong with tha'." Hagrid tried to comfort him, but Albus just shook his head.
"You don't understand, Hagrid. I'm not Harry Potter! I'm his son, Albus." he looked at Hagrid straight in the eye.
"Albus? Like Professor Dumbledore?" Hagrid asked. He wasn't sure what Harry (or Albus) was talking about.
Albus nodded. "Yeah. My dad named me after him." Albus said. "But I don't understand what's happening! Why am I suddenly in my father's body, almost 25 years in the past? It doesn't make sense." Albus muttered.
Hagrid just stared at him with kind, but confused eyes.
Albus looked up at him. "I just don't understand what's happening." Albus cried. "I want to go home...and...at the risk of sounding like a complete baby...I want my mommy."
Hagrid looked at Albus with a mixture of sadness and pity.
"Well...I can't say I really know what you're talkin’ bout, or what's going on, but if you want me to call you Albus, I will. Plus, when we get to Hogwarts, you can ask Dumbledore. I'm sure he can help you." Hagrid said.
Albus sniffed a bit and held back more tears, nodding.
"Well, anyway, we best be off, Al, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school." Hagrid said.
Albus nodded. "Okay. And can you just call me Albus?" he asked.
Hagrid smiled behind his beetle-eyes.
"Of cours’ I will."
Albus sighed and thought about Diagon Alley and having to do all his school shopping over again. Then he remembered something.
"Um - Hagrid?"
"Mm?"
"I haven't got any money to buy anything from Diagon Alley."
"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"
Albus looked confused. "My parents?"
Hagrid shook his head. "Harry's parents, I mean. First stop fer us is Gringotts. James and Lily kept their money for Harry in their own vault, which has just been sitting there for a while. It's the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you - gettin' things from Gringotts - knows he can trust me, see."
Albus nodded and looked up at the sky. It was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight.
"How did you get here?" Albus asked.
"Flew," said Hagrid.
"Oh, okay." Albus was just wondering.
"Yeah - but we'll go back in this boat of your uncle's. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh. Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Albus another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
"Why not?" asked Albus.
Hagrid sighed a great sigh.
"I was expelled. They snapped my wand and everything. Still keep the pieces in here though.”
Expelled? That was news to Albus. All his life he’d known Hagrid as the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, and you weren’t a professor if you couldn’t do magic. It was why Filch was a simple groundskeeper. As a Squib, he was unable to teach.
Although, Albus shuddered, maybe they were better off without Filch as a professor. The very thought was horrifying.
Hagrid pulled out a pink umbrella, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.
After a while of silence, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up a newspaper, (Albus supposed he had pulled it out of his giant coat) and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.
Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Albus couldn't blame them. I mean, he was Half-giant for Merlin's sake! Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary muggle things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Albus? The very things these Muggles dream up, eh?"
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand muggle currency, gave the bills to Albus so he could buy their tickets. Albus used muggle money all the time when he would go into town with his parents into muggle London, so it wasn't a real issue for him.
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. Albus wondered what on earth it was.
"Still got yer letter, Albus?" he asked as he counted stitches.
Albus took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.
"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."
"I know."
Albus unfolded the second piece of paper, 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 day wear
- One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
- One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' 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 of glass or crystal phials
1 telescope set
1 brass scale
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
It was a standard school letter, with standard school supplies. He set the letter back where he’d had it and looked over at Hagrid.
Albus tried to contain his laughter as he watched Hagrid struggle doing mundane tasks. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in the muggle way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
"Technology and brains." Albus muttered. "My grandfather Arthur says muggles are the smartest people in the world, to be able to come up with fake magic."
Hagrid nodded. "He's not wrong."
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; All Albus had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, before they finally reached...
"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. Albus had, of course, been to the Leaky many times throughout his life with his family, usually to visit the Matron, Hannah. Of course, this was before Hannah took it over, so it was definitely not in the condition Albus was used to.
A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Albus's shoulder and making his knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Albus, "is this - can this be - ?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Albus and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Albus didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was looking at him with an odd look on his face.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Albus found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
Albus shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more. A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Albus's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Albus asked. Something about this teacher seemed off to Albus.
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Albus to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Albus's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Albus.
"I expect you're used to that. I mean, Harry's famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin', the poor bloke."
"Yeah. Dad still has people come up and shake his hand all the time. Is that Professor man always that nervous?" Albus asked. There was something about that man that Albus couldn't quite put his finger on, and he didn't quite like it.
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject - now, where's me umbrella?"
"Three up... two across... " he muttered. "Right, stand back, Albus."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - all Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first." Hagrid started walking down to Gringotts, Albus following right after.
"Here we are. Gringotts." said Hagrid.
They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. The goblin was about a head shorter than Albus himself. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Albus noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, 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.
...
"Yeah, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob Gringotts," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed to them through the silver doors and soon they were 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 yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Albus made for the counter.
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
"You have his key, sir?"
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Albus saw a goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely.
"That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin read the letter carefully.
"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed Albus the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Albus followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Albus asked.
"Can't tell yeh that, Albus" said Hagrid mysteriously, in a low voice. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
They got in the cart and started off down towards the vaults. Albus never liked riding in these things. They went to fast and it made him queasy. In fact, the first time he HAD ridden in one of these when he was a child with his parents, he threw up all over his mum’s blouse. Harry had been beside himself in laughter, and his mum hexed him when they got home that night.
He looked at Hagrid, but he didn't look any better. In fact, he looked just as green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Albus gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. He had never been inside his parents’ vault before, he'd always stayed in the cart with his siblings, trying not to be sick, while his parents retrieved the money. He knew that his family had some money, but this was just...amazing.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
Hagrid helped Albus pile some of it into a bag. It didn't take very long, and, when they were finished, Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
"One speed only," said Griphook. Hagrid sighed.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine until they finally reached vault seven hundred and thirteen.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.
"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" asked Albus.
"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.
Albus grimaced. He remembered from his childhood stories that his Dad had spoken about that they had needed to break into Gringotts for something to do with the war. It was very important, he remembered. Albus couldn’t help but imagine if they hadn’t gotten out of there, his Dad, Aunt and Uncle’s bodies may never had been recovered from the many traps of Gringotts.
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Albus was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Albus wanted to know what it was but knew better than to ask.
"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts.
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Albus, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Albus entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed All in mauve.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Albus 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. He looked a lot like Scorpius. A lot, in fact. But Albus knew better. In fact, Albus knew this boy was probably Scorpius' relative in some way, they looked too much alike for them not to be related. Madam Malkin stood Albus on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.
"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," said Albus.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice, nothing at all like Scorpius'.
"Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
Even though he was only with them for a short while, Albus was strongly reminded of Dudley.
"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.
"No," said Albus.
"Play Quidditch at All?"
"No," Albus said again. "I’m kind of scared of heights, actually."
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"
That got Albus thinking. What house WOULD he be in? He was already sorted into Slytherin, but would he get sorted somewhere else a second time around? His father was a Gryffindor, so what did that mean for him?
"No." Albus said again.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
Albus snickered at that.
"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding 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," Albus told the boy. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" the boy asked.
"He's the gamekeeper," Albus informed him. He was liking this boy less and less every second.
"Yes, exactly. 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 brilliant," said Albus.
"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," said Albus shortly. Of course, HIS parents weren't dead, his grandparents were, but the boy didn't know what was going on, and honestly Albus didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy. I mean, he barely understood it himself.
"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
"They were a witch and wizard, top of their class. Head Boy and Girl in their time." Albus said, remembering the stories his father had told him of his grandparents.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? 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 wizarding families."
"What makes you say that?" Albus was starting to get annoyed at this boy.
"Well, they're different. Beneath us. They don't have any magical lineage."
Albus looked at the boy. "Actually," Albus corrected him, "Muggle born witches and wizards have a wizard or witch ancestor. That's where the magic comes from. It just resurfaces many generations later." Albus corrected him.
The boy looked at him skeptically.
"Hm. Well. I can't say I knew that. My father told me that they're magic thieves and that they take wands from real witches and wizards and try to pass themselves off as equals to us." the boy said.
"Well...we can't always believe what our parents tell us."
The boy looked thoughtful for a moment-as if he had never considered that before-but only for a moment, before speaking again.
"What's your surname, anyway?
"Potter. You?"
"Malfoy. I'm Draco Malfoy."
So this little git was Scorpius' father. Albus smirked a bit.
Before they could talk any further, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Albus, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to Draco, hopped down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said Malfoy.
Albus nodded and left the shop.
They finished most of their shopping quickly, since Albus knew exactly where to go and what to buy.
"Just yer wand left - A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Albus shook his head.
"You don't have to-I mean it's not even MY birthday, it's my dad's."
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Albus was now carrying a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He recalled his dad had a pet snowy owl named Hedwig that Hagrid had gotten him, so he supposed this was the same owl.
"Thank you, Hagrid. Dad told me he named the owl you got him Hedwig, so I suppose that's your name now." Albus said to the bird.
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Just Ollivander’s left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Albus felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Albus jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Albus awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Albus. Albus wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Albus were almost nose to nose. He could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
"And that's where..."
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Albus's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-Half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."
"Don't blame yourself, Mr. Ollivander. You couldn't have known." Albus told him.
He shook his head. "You're right, you're right...but still." Then he spotted Hagrid and grinned.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.
"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Albus noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
'Yeah, right.' he thought. He really wondered what it was that Hagrid had done to get expelled.
"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"My right." said Albus.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Albus from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. 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."
Mr. Ollivander 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."
Albus took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try-"
Albus tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Albus tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Albus took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped, and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."
He put the wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious...
"What's curious?" Albus asked.
Mr. Ollivander gave him a blank stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your 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."
Albus swallowed. He remembered his father telling them the story of when he'd gotten his wand, but Albus didn't remember what it was until now. Albus felt as if he were holding his own wand. He supposed that the wand was choosing Harry's body, not his soul. Which is why Albus felt so comfortable using his father's sword. If and when he returned to his own body, Albus was sure his dad's wand wouldn't feel so natural to him anymore.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. 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."
Albus shivered. He didn't like Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
Albus sighed when he realized that he'd have to go back to the Dursley's. Since it wasn't September 1st yet, he had to stay there until it was time for him to go to Hogwarts. He didn't want to. He REALLY didn't want to, but Albus supposed if his dad could do it, he could.
Hagrid helped Albus on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.
"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's All on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See ya later, Albus. I'm going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about your situation and he'll probably want to see you very soon, probably the first or second day you're at school. He can help you out, Albus. You'll see. Whatever it is that's happening to you, Dumbledore will know. Great man, Dumbledore. He'll get you home." Hagrid smiled at Albus, who simply nodded.
Giving Hagrid one last hug goodbye, Albus boarded the train that would take him back to the Dursley's. He turned to look back at Hagrid, but he'd already left.
...