Diagon Alley
Whenever Harry thought back over the first week after he left his aunt’s house, he remembered the feeling of sheer terror mixed with heady freedom. As a lanky teenager, he was able to secure a job washing dishes, and serving as a bus boy, for a restaurant in the city to which he had apparated. This city was the first place Harry had been able to think of, the morning he had left the Dursleys. Although he had never visited it before, he had heard them speak of it, as it was the nearest urban center to Little Whinging. Harry had thought to lose himself among the crowds, where an isolated young adult would attract less attention than in the small town where he had lived most of his life.
Harry was right. No one gave him a second glance. Even at his job, people barely registered that he was even there, must less cared to ask him personal questions about his life. Busboys came and went with frequency, and the restaurant owner only cared about whether Harry showed up on time or not.
For the first time in his life, however, Harry was able to eat enough to lose the constant hungry feeling in his stomach. While he wasn’t allowed to take any food with him, one of the perks of the job was that he was able to eat as much as he wanted at the restaurant. At first, Harry tentatively ate only small portions but, when he realized that no one paid any attention to how much he ate, he soon began to enjoy the sensation of eating three solid meals a day.
Harry shared a small room in an apartment with a number of other young people, mostly immigrants. The boss at the restaurant had given Harry the name of a woman who rented out a portion of her apartment for day laborers to live. There was a rotating schedule of people who shared the small apartment. There were three shifts of people who used the beds, based on their work schedule. Harry’s schedule to use the bed was during the hours of midnight to six o’clock in the morning.
One of the biggest changes for Harry was responding to a new name. He had spent a few hours having fun deciding what his new name would be. Finally, he had decided on “Mark Twist”. “Mark” because he was literally “marked” by the scar hidden by his glamour charm and because he was figuratively a “marked man,” targeted by some evil dark wizard who was apparently running around looking to kill him. Harry didn’t ever want to forget this, or to relax his guard. “Twist” as a tribute to a famous literary orphan, Oliver Twist. Harry felt keenly that there was no one who loved him – he was an orphan and had to rely on himself only. And, if there was a sneaking hope that he, like Oliver Twist, would find himself a new family who cared about him, Harry refused to acknowledge this.
So, the days and months fell into a pattern. Harry spent his days washing dishes, or busing tables. When he had a few hours free from work each day, Harry tried to read as much as possible. He was aware that he was missing out on his formal education, and he hoped to learn at least a little on his own. Harry found that, without the constant fear of displeasing his aunt and uncle, he enjoyed learning and was soon a voracious reader. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to learn anything about the wizarding world in the public library.
Harry was incredibly lonely. He had no friends at all. At work, socializing was discouraged, as the boss felt that this distracted the workers from performing their duties. At the apartment he shared with so many others, there was little opportunity for socializing either. Many of the boarders did not speak English and there was always someone sleeping in one of the beds. The woman who owned the apartment preferred for her boarders to come by only when it was time for them to use the bed or shower. The rest of the time, they were encouraged to find somewhere else to spend time.
Harry’s 11th birthday came and went without any fanfare. He barely noticed it himself.
A few weeks after he had turned 11, an incident occurred that marked a turning point in Harry’s life. It was a Sunday, and he had a rare day free, as the restaurant was closed for a few simple renovations. Harry was walking through a park when he noticed a rugby game in progress. The players looked about 10 or 11 years’ old. Harry watched them longingly; he would so love to join in.
Almost without realizing it, Harry felt himself shrink and become a younger version of Mark Twist. He looked around surreptitiously and was relieved to see that no one was around him – no one had noticed the transformation. Harry sternly warned himself that he would have to be more careful in the future. If he were going to transform, he should have found a private spot to do it!
Anyway, as an 11 year old, Harry slowly approached the other children. When they noticed him, they were eager to have Harry join them, to add to their numbers. Harry had one of the best days of his life. It was with more than a hint of reluctance that he transformed into an older version of Mark Twist, in order to return to the boarding house where he lived.
When he arrived at the house, he was given an odd looking letter. “This came while you were gone,” said his landlady. “I don’t know who delivered it because it’s Sunday. It was lying by the mail slot.”
Harry looked at it in surprise, and slowly reached out his hand to take the letter from her, thanking her absently. Who could be writing to him? Even if his aunt and uncle wanted to reach him, they had no idea where he was; besides, the letter was addressed to “Mark Twist” and they didn’t know that he was going by this name.
Harry found himself a private corner to read his letter. He ran his finger wonderingly over the raised seal, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”. His heart started to beat faster. Was this the school his mother had attended?
Harry opened the letter carefully.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grad Sorc.,
Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Twist,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. A representative from Hogwarts will arrive at 10 a.m. tomorrow to explain further and to take you to Diagon Alley to help you to purchase your school supplies.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
P.S. We apologize for the delay in your receiving this letter, which is usually sent to students on their 11th birthday. For some reason, your name did not appear on our list of attending students until early this morning.
Harry read the letter a number of times, letting it sink in. This was the world that his aunt had feared. Magic! The very word rolled off Harry’s tongue promising wonders. If this was the world he belonged in, as his aunt said, then it was here that he would find the family and friends he craved. But, Harry cautioned himself, it was also the world of the psycho dark wizard who had killed his parents and was after him. He could never forget this, and must continue to hide who he was.
Reading the postscript, Harry realized that, if he had not transformed this afternoon into a younger Mark Twist, the Hogwarts registry would not have listed him as attending the school. Apparently, whatever magic he had been able to marshal in order to fix himself as Mark Twist, rather than Harry Potter, was very strong and captured all aspects of his being Mark Twist – whether he was in his younger or older version. As an older Mark Twist, he would have missed his chance to attend Hogwarts. As an 11 year old, the school registry must have sensed a magical child and included his name on the list of children who should be attending school.
Tomorrow, he would meet a representative of the school. Another wizard! Harry could barely wait. He would have to wait outside and try to intercept this person before he or she knocked on the door. There was no 11 year old Mark Twist at this address. What would he do if this person wanted to speak with his parents? Harry turned various ideas over in his head and finally decided to wait to see what happened and just wing it.
The next day found a young boy sitting on the steps leading up to the apartment building where a number of boarders shared a room. He was obviously looking for someone, as his eyes scanned the street continuously. Anyone watching him would have realized at once that the boy had obviously spotted something by the way his eyes widened in alarm and his whole body stiffened. Swallowing hard, the boy slowly stood up.
An enormous man was walking toward the boy. Easily towering over even a tall man, the man’s face was covered in hair, making him seem like a mountain man. His alarming appearance was softened by the smile that lit up his face. Gathering his courage, Harry descended the steps where he had been sitting, and approached the man.
“Mark Twist, are ye?” rumbled the man.
Harry gulped and nodded, and held out his hand. It was enveloped in a hand the size of a dustbin cover. “Hello, sir.”
“Pleased to meet ye! Pleased to meet ye!” the man exclaimed, pumping Harry’s hand enthusiastically. “Me name’s Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” At Harry’s blank stare, he continued, “The gamekeeper there.” Harry nodded.
“Well, Mark, I bet findin’ out ye were a wizard was a bit of a shock. Ye were a bit of a shock to the school, too! It’s never happened before that a student just appeared on the roster a few weeks before school started. Usually, even muggleborns – that’s a witch or wizard born of non-magical parents – appear on the list a few years before they are scheduled to attend Hogwarts. Magic usually shows itself when someone’s about six or seven.”
Hagrid paused and Harry didn’t know what to say. Should he make up a story about how something happened yesterday to trigger his magic? “Er…” he began. But, Hagrid had already moved on to another topic.
“I’m here to help explain some things to yer parents and take ye to Diagon Alley to buy yer school supplies. Are yer parents inside?” Hagrid waved toward the building behind Harry, where he had been sitting on the steps waiting for Hagrid to appear.
Harry had been expecting this question and had his answer ready. He could only hope that it would satisfy Hagrid. “Actually, my parents had to leave today for a family emergency. My father’s sister, Marge,” this was actually the name of Uncle Vernon’s sister – Harry thought it was best to stick as close as possible to truth, so that he wouldn’t forget the story he was weaving, “is sick and they had to go take care of her. They almost took me with them, but I told them that I could meet with you myself and tell them what they needed to know.”
Hagrid looked a little thrown that he wouldn’t meet Mark Twist’s parents, but he accepted Harry’s story without question. “They’re okay with ye being a wizard, are they?”
Harry nodded his head vigorously. “Oh, yes! They love the idea!”
Hagrid smiled, pleased. “That’s great. Some muggleborns have a bit of trouble with their parents at first, just because it’s so new to them, see? Anyway, we can be on our way then to Diagon Alley. That’s good because we have to stop off at Gringott’s, that’s the wizard’s bank, and that may take some time, if there’s a line.”
Hagrid’s mention of a bank reminded Harry of one of his key worries. Not sure how to raise this point, he hesitantly said, “Sir. Does it cost a lot of money to go to Hogwarts? And are school supplies expensive? My parents don’t make a lot of money…”
“Not a problem, not a problem,” smiled the giant. “There’s a scholarship for muggleborn students to attend Hogwarts. It’s common for muggles not to feel comfortable with sendin’ their kids off to a school they don’t know anythin’ about, and add that to havin’ to pay money! Well, a scholarship was set up hundreds of years ago so that any muggleborns would be able to go to Hogwarts if their parents were hesitatin’ because of the cost. I attended Hogwarts for a few years usin’ that scholarship meself!”
At Harry’s questioning look, Hagrid muttered, “I didn’t actually graduate Hogwarts. That’s another story. Let’s get crackin’!”
Harry nodded obediently and trotted alongside Hagrid, as the Keeper of the Keys started up the street. A thousand questions ran through Harry’s head, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t want to annoy this enormous man, who was being very friendly to him. He knew that adults often were irritated when children asked too many questions.
Harry was surprised that they used the public transportation. Hagrid attracted a lot of attention because of his size and obvious unfamiliarity with the Underground system. Harry had never ridden on the Underground before himself, but he was able to figure out how to pay without too much trouble. He enjoyed the new experience but wondered how this was going to help them arrive at Diagon Alley. Surely, the Underground wouldn’t take them there?
The two got off at a crowded station and Hagrid led Harry outside, where they walked for a while, until they arrived at what seemed like a typical busy street. Hagrid gestured to a building across the street and said, “There’s the Leaky Cauldron. We can enter Diagon Alley through there.”
Harry’s eyes almost popped out of his head. Until Hagrid had mentioned the Leaky Cauldron, he hadn’t even noticed it was there. It was as if a building had just popped into existence. Looking around, Harry noticed that muggles (what an interesting word!) didn’t seem to realize it was there. Their eyes seemed to slide from the building on the left to the building on the right of the Leaky Cauldron, without noticing that there was a building in between.
Hagrid, noticing Harry’s look, chuckled. “Only witches and wizards can see this building, Mark. Muggles can’t see the Leaky Cauldron unless they’re with a witch or wizard.”
“Wow!” said Harry, inarticulately. He hadn’t even entered into the wizarding world and already it was amazing!
They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry saw that it was a pub. There were a number of people sitting at tables or the bar, eating and drinking and a low hum of conversation filled the room. A hunchbacked barkeeper was cleaning glasses and smiled toothlessly at Hagrid as he entered the room. “Hagrid! The usual?”
“Not today, Tom. I’ve got a new student who I have to help get ready for Hogwarts.”
Tom looked at Mark and lowered the glass he was polishing. “Not…not Harry Potter?” he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with hope.
The noise in the pub ceased immediately and Harry felt all eyes on him. He froze in terror. But, Hagrid was already shaking his enormous, hairy head. “No, Tom. No. Ye know he’s still missing.” Hagrid’s voice was filled with sadness. “This here’s Mark Twist.” Hagrid patted Harry on the back and he was propelled forward a few steps from the force of the friendly blow.
An increase in the chatter filled the vacuum caused by Tom’s guess. People were shaking their heads and looking unhappy, muttering to themselves or each other and Harry heard the words “Harry Potter” coming from all corners.
There was a slight rustle at the bar, and a small man rose from a stool. “Oh, Professor Quirrell,” greeted Hagrid. “I didn’t see ye there. Mark, Professor Quirell will be yer Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts.”
Harry smiled politely, and held out his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“L..l..ikewise,” stuttered the professor. “M..m..ake sure you read the first chapter of the course book before class!” But, he smiled kindly when he said this.
Harry nodded obediently and said, “I’m looking forward to doing so, sir.”
They exchanged goodbyes and Harry followed Hagrid into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. When they were clear of other people, Harry took a deep breath and asked, daringly, “Hagrid, who’s Harry Potter? Why were all those people interested in him?”
Hagrid looked so sad, Harry half expected him to break into tears. “Harry Potter is a boy yer own age, who was to attend Hogwarts this year. He’s not at his aunt and uncle’s house where he had been left. Everyone’s looking for him, but he hasn’t been found. We’re all very worried about him.” Before Hagrid could say any more, they had reached a stone wall. Hagrid gave a big sniff, swallowing his tears, and turned his attention to the wall.
Hagrid tapped some stones with a broken, pink umbrella Hagrid had under his coat. Harry’s mouth dropped open as the stone wall opened to reveal a magical world behind – Diagon Alley. Immediately, all questions about Harry Potter fled his mind. All he could think about was this magical place. A thousand questions filled his head, but he couldn’t take the time to ask any of them, as his eyes darted from one building to another, from one person to another, drinking in the sights.
Harry barely registered when Hagrid pulled him gently by the arm. In a daze, Harry followed obediently. “We need to go to Gringott’s first, to get ye some money,” Hagrid said. At these words, Harry’s eyes followed where Hagrid had gestured and saw, at the end of the street, a beautiful, white colonnade building. It dominated the street.
As they climbed the stairs to the bank, Harry read aloud the inscription over the doorway.
“Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sins of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay 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.”
“Ye’d have to mad ter try to rob Gringotts,” Hagrid muttered.
Inside, Harry tried not to be rude by staring at the unusual creatures that worked in the bank. Under his breath, Hagrid murmured, “These are goblins, Mark. They are sly and dangerous creatures. Don’t ye ever cross a goblin; they’ll get back at ye, fer sure.”
Hagrid approached a desk and waited for the goblin to acknowledge his presence. “Morning. We’ve come to take some money outta vault 123. An’ I also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore. It’s about the You-Know-What in vault 713.”
Harry wondered idly whether his family had a vault in this bank too. For all he knew, his parents may have left him money. But, he couldn’t ask of course. Someday, when it was safe, he would have to remember to check, Harry thought.
The goblin read the letter, nodded to Hagrid and called over another goblin. “Griphook! Please escort Mr. Hagrid to vaults 123 and 713.”
The goblin, Hagrid and Harry climbed into a little cart that resembled a miner’s cart. Soon, Harry was on a dizzying ride through the bowels of Gringotts. It was what Harry had imagined a rollercoaster ride would be like. At one point, Harry noticed what looked like flame from below them.
“Hagrid, what’s that?”
“Maybe a dragon,” Hagrid said. “Don’t ask any questions. It’s better if I keep me mouth shut.”
Harry realized, then, that Hagrid was slowly turning green. Obviously, Hagrid did not enjoy this rollercoaster trip to the vaults.
They came first to vault number 123 and Harry clambered from the cart, with Hagrid heaving himself slowly from his seat. Griphook opened the door and, inside the vault, Harry could see many small piles of coins, evenly spaced throughout the room. Hagrid waved a big hand around the room and explained, “Each pile is fer a scholarship student. Yer pile’s the one closest to the door. The next student that needs the scholarship will get the next pile, and so on. There are seven years at Hogwarts. That pile has to last ye throughout yer schoolin’, so ye best be careful how ye spend it!”
Harry nodded in understanding. He carefully measured out 1/7th of the pile and slipped the coins into his pocket. He would have to make this money last for one year. It was a daunting prospect. But, he also had a little bit of savings from his restaurant job. He would have to ask how muggle money was changed into wizarding money so that he could supplement the scholarship with his own earnings.
Harry listened carefully as Hagrid explained the difference between knuts, sickles and galleons. It seemed complicated to him, but Hagrid assured him that he would get the hang of it very quickly.
They climbed back into the cart to continue on to vault 713. To Harry’s eyes, it seemed that Hagrid was very reluctant to climb back inside. They arrived at the next vault very quickly and Hagrid followed Griphook to the vault, where he took a small package, wrapped in brown paper, and put it inside his coat. Harry was surprised that the rest of the vault seemed to be empty, except for that small package. However, he sensed that questions would not be welcome and he held his tongue.
After they left Gringotts, Hagrid took a deep breath of air. “Mark, would ye mind if I left ye fer a bit while I get a drink at the Leaky Cauldron? That Gringott’s cart takes a bit out of me, no mistake. I’ll leave ye at Ollivander’s and come and get ye in just a few, all right?”
“Sure, Hagrid,” Harry agreed, although he was a bit nervous about being left on his own in this alien world.
After Hagrid deposited him at the doorstep of Ollivander’s wand store, Harry watched the giant totter down the street on his way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Then, taking a deep breath, Harry opened the door and entered on his own. At first, it seemed as if he were alone in the shop. But, then he realized that an old man, with pale, bulging eyes was staring at him from the corner.
Harry started, but then said politely, “Hello, sir. I am here to purchase a wand.”
The elderly man looked at him piercingly and said, slowly, “I do not recognize you, sir.
Am I right in believing you to be muggleborn?”
Harry nodded his head slowly. “Yes, sir. I am Mark Twist.”
The man continued, “I am Ollivander, the owner of this shop. I will help you to find your wand but, remember, that the wand chooses the wizard. While you can use any wand to do magic, no other wand will work as well for you as the wand that chooses you. Now, what is your wand arm?”
“Er…I’m right handed, if that’s what you mean?”
Immediately, a measuring tape flew through the air and started measuring Harry’s arm and taking other measurements as well. Ignoring the tape, Ollivander started pulling boxes from the rows and rows of boxes lining the walls of the shop. He laid the boxes upon a counter and, calling to him, asked Harry to open the box and start trying out the wands that Ollivander had selected. Harry opened box after box and held wands made of every different kind of wood, with dragon heartstrings, unicorn hairs, and phoenix feather cores. Wand after wand felt no different to Harry and his heart started to sink.
What if they didn’t let him into Hogwarts if no wand chose him?
But, Ollivander seemed to consider the continued failure to find a suitable wand to be a personal challenge. He seemed more and more excited the longer it took for Harry to find a wand.
Finally, he turned to Harry and looked at him assessingly. “Mr. Twist. Let’s see if we can do this another way. Can you close your eyes and imagine yourself holding a wand? Let that be the only thought in your head. Let it consume every corner of your brain. Call to that wand to come into your hand. Imagine it with every ounce of your will.”
Harry closed his eyes. He closed his right hand around an imaginary wand and pictured a thin stick of wood there, smooth and cool to the touch. He imagined waving it in mid air and actually raised his arm, holding the imaginary wand. How he wanted that wand! With every fiber of his being, he wished. For every birthday that ever went by without any presents, he wished. For every Christmas that saw a pile of presents for Dudley and none for him, he wished. He wished so hard, he actually felt a stick of wood poking at his hand.
“Aahhh,” said Ollivander.
At this, Harry opened his eyes and saw that, indeed, he had not imagined it. A wand had flown out of its box and was bumping his hand, demanding to be held. Harry gratefully closed his hand around the wand and immediately felt a thrill of electricity throughout his body. Sparks flew from the end of the wand and it glowed warmly in his hand. Harry smiled the widest smile of his life and lifted his eyes to share this exciting moment with Ollivander. However, the appraising look that Ollivander cast upon him caused Harry’s smile to disappear.
“What’s the matter?” Harry demanded.
“It’s just curious,” muttered Ollivander, slowly.
“What’s curious?” asked Harry. The way Ollivander was looking at him was alarming.
“The phoenix that gave his feather to this wand, gave just one other feather. It’s curious that you are destined for this wand when its brother went to another unknown muggle-born who became a remarkable leader. I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Twist. After all, the wizard who had the twin wand did great things. Terrible things, but great.”
Harry knew instinctively that Ollivander must be referring to the dark wizard who had killed his parents. “What was this wizard’s name?” he asked.
“Oh, we do not speak his name,” warned Ollivander. The elderly man forestalled any more questions by turning away from Harry and moving to his till. He rang up the sale and Harry was soon seven gold Galleons lighter in his pocket.
No sooner had Harry purchased the wand than Hagrid returned from his trip to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry noticed that Hagrid’s cheeks were a little redder and he seemed a bit more jovial than earlier.
“All done there, Mark? Great. Let’s just moving on then, shall we? We have a lot of stops to make today.”
Harry was relieved that Ollivander did not mention the wand’s sharing a core with the wand of this anonymous dark wizard. He swiftly said goodbye to Ollivander and followed Hagrid out of the store.
Harry would have been alarmed had he known that, as soon as he left the shop, Ollivander sent a message to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, alerting him that a young muggleborn, Mark Twist, had purchased this particular wand. Hours later, reading this message, Dumbledore would pace his study in thought, wondering whether he was seeing the birth of a new dark wizard. It was now twice in as many days that the name Mark Twist had come to his attention. First, Mr. Twist’s name had inexplicably appeared on the register of new students. Then, the very next day, this same Mr. Twist purchased a wand which was the twin of Lord Voldemort’s. What could this mean? Dumbledore vowed to keep a close eye on Mark Twist.
Harry followed Hagrid to his next stop at Flourish and Blotts. Here, Harry consulted his book list and realized that he would be spending too much of his scholarship money if he did not budget carefully. So, he asked to be directed to the second-hand books and was shown to a small bin in the back of the store. As Harry sifted through the bin carefully, another boy approached him.
This boy looked to be about Harry’s own age, but much taller. The boy had red hair and freckles. “Hi,” said the boy shyly. “Are you starting Hogwarts, too?”
Harry nodded. “And you?”
“Yes. I’m Ron Weasley.” Harry shook the proffered hand.
“I’m Mark Twist.” Harry shifted over to allow the boy to look through the same bin. “Are you buying your books here too?”
The boy’s cheeks turned a bit red, as if embarrassed to be buying books second-hand but he nodded and started looking through the bin as well. There was silence for a few minutes as the boys looked. Harry desperately wanted to say something, but couldn’t think of how to start a conversation. He was not used to interacting with children his own age. All the children in his school gave him wide berth so as not to get on Dudley’s bad side. Harry was enormously relieved when Ron started up a conversation.
“I’ve been looking forward to going to Hogwarts for ages. I have five older brothers who have attended. I can’t believe it’s finally my turn.”
Harry realized it was his turn to say something and cast around in his head for something to say. “I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I didn’t know about Hogwarts until I received the letter. It was an enormous surprise.”
Ron looked at Harry with interest. “Oh, so you’re muggleborn?”
Harry nodded. “I bet everyone knows more than me,” Harry admitted his secret fear.
“Don’t worry about that. There are plenty of muggleborns at Hogwarts and they get along just fine. There’s so much to learn, even purebloods -- kids born to witches and wizards,” Ron explained kindly, “don’t have much of an advantage.”
Harry was relieved. Suddenly, it seemed as if the shop were teaming with red-heads, as Ron was surrounded by his family. “Ron, are you done yet?” asked his mother. Impatiently, an older boy in spectacles, twin boys, and a younger girl all waited for Ron to join them as they continued shopping.
Ron pulled the last book on his list from the bin and said, “All set, Mum. I’ll see you around then?” Ron asked Harry.
Harry nodded quickly. “Sure. See you.”
But, before Ron could leave with his family, one of his twin brothers piped up, “Who’s your friend, Ronald?”
Ron turned red at being called Ronald in front of his new friend. “This is Mark Twist. He’s a first year like me.” Ron’s father joined the group and, knowing his father’s interest in all things muggle, Ron added, “He’s muggleborn.”
Mr. Weasley smiled widely at Harry and shook his hand. “Hello, Mark. Are your parents here?”
Harry shook his head. “No, sir. Hagrid is taking me through Diagon Alley today.”
“Cool,” said one of the twins. He, too, shook Harry’s hand and introduced himself as George.
The other twin immediately stepped forward and said, “Don’t listen to him, Mark. I’m George. He’s Fred.” He then cast a dark look at his twin and said, “Give him a break Fred. He’s new to our world and we need to give him time to settle in.” Harry would have felt relieved if he hadn’t heard George mutter under his breath, so that his mother couldn’t hear him. “And, besides, we’ll have plenty of time to torture him at school!”
The eldest boy shook Harry’s hand and, pompously, introduced himself as “Percy Weasley, one of the prefects at Hogwarts. If ever you need a hand at school, don’t hesitate to ask me for help, Mark. It is the job of every prefect to be a guiding light and a source of comfort for all students.”
Harry thanked him solemnly, but had to keep from laughing out loud when he saw the twins rolling their eyes and making ridiculous faces behind Percy’s back.
Mrs. Weasley smiled kindly at Harry and said, “I’m sure you’ll have a good year at Hogwarts, Mark. It’s a wonderful place. Ginny here,” she gestured at the young girl at her side, “wishes she could go, too. Just one more year for her to join you!”
The girl blushed and hid her head. Harry didn’t quite know what to say and settled for a, “Thank you, ma’am.”
Introductions over, the Weasley family said goodbye to Harry and continued on their way. Harry was sorry to see Ron go. He hoped that he would see him again soon because Ron seemed very friendly. Realizing that Hagrid would be becoming impatient, Harry finished selecting his books, and other supplies (such as his potion ingredients and cauldron), and told Hagrid he was ready to continue shopping for the remainder of his school list.
At Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, Harry selected some used robes and Madam Malkin tailored them to fit him. Harry was very used to wearing Dudley’s hand-me down clothes, so it didn’t trouble him at all that he wasn’t buying new robes. While Harry was being measured by Madam Malkin, Hagrid had disappeared. Harry expected that Hagrid was bored with chaperoning him around and he was worried that Hagrid would decide to bring the day to a close before Harry had been able to purchase all of his supplies. With this in mind, Harry quickly agreed to all of Madam Malkin’s suggestions and stood very still while his robes were being pinned up. He wanted to buy the robes as quickly as possible, so that he could go on to purchase the next item on his list before Hagrid ran out of patience.
“There, all done,” said Madam Malkin, giving Harry a pat on his shoulder. “I must say, you are probably the best behaved boy I’ve ever had in my shop! I wish they would all stand as patiently as you did. I always tell them that it would go so much faster if they just stood still, but none of them listens.”
Harry smiled and thanked Madam Malkin for her help. As he turned to leave, he noticed Hagrid through the window of the shop. He was thankful that he was finished so that he wouldn’t have to make Hagrid wait. In puzzlement, Harry wondered why Hagrid was pointing to a bird cage that he was holding in his hand. A beautiful, snowy white owl was inside.
Harry stepped outside the robe shop and Hagrid greeted him with, “Hi ya, Mark. That was quick. While yer were doing that, I bought ye Hedwig here. It’s me gift to ye, to welcome ye to the wizarding world.”
Harry’s eyes popped out of his head. He stared disbelievingly at Hagrid. He couldn’t believe that Hagrid had bought him a gift. Never in his life had he received a gift before. “I…I…” he stammered. Hagrid seemed to understand what Harry couldn’t say.
“Don’ mention it,” Hagrid said kindly. “As I told ye, I was a scholarship student meself. I didn’t think you’d be able to afford an owl, an’ they’re dead useful, carry yer post an’ everythin’.”
“Thank you!” breathed Harry, as he took Hedwig’s cage with reverence. “I’ll take good care of her, Hagrid, I swear!”
Hagrid was taken aback by the piercing look he received from Mark’s dark eyes. Hagrid was pleased to see how carefully the boy held the cage. It was rare to find someone who was as careful with animals as Hagrid himself. But, there was something a little odd about how polite and serious the boy was.
With their shopping done, Hagrid and Harry took the Underground back to Harry’s apartment building. At the front of the building, Harry thanked Hagrid politely for having taken him to Diagon Alley.
“It were nottin’,” Hagrid dismissed. “I enjoyed showin’ ye around. Ye’ll have a great year at Hogwarts, don’t ye worry!”
Tentatively, Harry asked, “Would it be all right if I came by once in a while? It will be nice to know someone at Hogwarts.”
Hagrid beamed. “Sure thing, Mark. Yer welcome anytime. Me hut’s right on the grounds, so ye won’t miss it. I’ll expect ye for tea after ye’ve settled in, all right?”
Harry smiled. “Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll look forward to it.”
As Hagrid turned away to leave, Harry called him. “Hagrid, could I ask you a favor?” When Hagrid turned back, Harry lifted his arm holding Hedwig’s cage. “It’ll be a bit – difficult – for my parents to adjust to an owl, I think. My mom…she’s a bit scared of birds,” Harry lied. “Would you mind…could you…do you think you could take Hedwig back to Hogwarts with you now? I’ll be there in just a few weeks and I could take care of her then.”
Hagrid nodded immediately. “Sure, Mark. No problem. There’s an owlery at Hogwarts.” At Harry’s quizzical look, Hagrid explained. “That’s the building where the owls sleep at night. Hedwig will be fine there.”
Taking the cage from Harry, Hagrid said goodbye again and Harry watched the big man walk down the street, the bird cage swinging at his side. With difficulty, Harry hauled his trunk, now full of books, robes, potions, and his cauldron, into the room he shared with so many others. He stuffed it in the closet, and hoped that his roommates wouldn’t be too annoyed with the big trunk taking up so much room. At least, it was locked so there was no danger anyone would peer inside.
Harry then composed himself to wait with as much patience as possible for the next two weeks to pass. Hogwarts! It called to him, with a promise of home he had never known.