A/N: Hello! I've hit a serious wall of writer's block in my other stories right now, but after playing FFIII - that's Final Fantasy 3, for you uninitiated plebs out there - I got bitten by this rabid plot Bahamut. Dragon bites hurt, you know, so to get him off me, I agreed that this must be written. Harry learns summoning, and let's just pray that the magical world is standing at the end of it all! There will be some characters from various Final Fantasys, but no Cloud, Tidus - by the way, how do you pronounce that? Tee-dus? Tie-dus? Ah, who cares? - and no Tifa. Those three just irritate me, so rather than write them in and end up having people complain about me bashing their characters, I'm leaving them out. Make up your own story as to why they aren't there.

Harry's head was spinning. All day, Hagrid had been taking him round Diagon Alley in London, helping him buy things he would need when he went to Hogwarts. And wasn't that a kick in the teeth? He, Harry Potter, the freak from Privet Drive, was going to a school of magic, where there were others just like him! For the first time in his life, he wouldn't be 'that weird kid with the ugly glasses', and maybe he would even be able to make friends while he was there.

"Righ' then, 'Arry. You go an' get yer wand, while I nip off fer a minute. There's summat I need ter get quickly. Wand shop's just over there."

Looking at the shop Hagrid pointed out, Harry nodded to the giant man, before heading towards the wand shop. A sign over the entrance read 'Ollivanders - Makers of fine wands since 382 BC'. Harry wasn't sure if the shop had really been open that long, but thinking about it, he decided that maybe the whole family made wands, and had done for hundreds of years. He didn't really care though, too obsessed with the fact that he was finally going to get his own wand, and be able to use magic like a real wizard did.

Entering the shop, Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something in this building seemed to feel...odd, was the best way he could describe it. Not in a bad way, though. Stepping up to the counter, Harry rang the fragile looking bell that sat on the ancient desk. Both looked as though they had been there since 382 BC, he thought idly, looking around at the stacks upon stacks of long, thin boxes - he assumed they contained wands - all of which seemed to be covered in a light coating of dust, or powder.

"Ah, yes. Mr Potter. I wondered when I'd be seeing you."

Harry jumped slightly. While he had been staring around, a wispy, wizened old wizard had appeared out of the gloom at the back of the shop, staring at him so intently that it was creeping him out. The old man's eyes were the scariest part of him, Harry thought, as they were silver, with no pupils, just two large orbs of silver, and yet the old man seemed to be able to see just fine. Ollivander - Harry assumed that was his name - smiled at him, and Harry could swear he saw a hint of fangs in the man's mouth, but the old wandmaker closed his mouth quickly after that. Heading over to one of the shelves, Ollivander began pulling various boxes out, before shaking his head and putting them back. He continued to talk the whole time he did this.

"Seems only yesterday, that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands."

"Do wizards have more than one wand, sir?"

"Oh my, yes. No one wizard is a perfect match for a single wand their entire life, after all. No, you should always buy your first wand when you start school, then, once you turn seventeen, and your magic has matured to it's adult stage, you should always buy a new wand. After that, it's advisable, but not strictly necessary, to buy a new wand, or at least have the old one 'tuned up', so to speak, once every thirty-odd years. Ah, here we go!"

Turning round, he made his way back to the desk, opening the box he now held as he did so. Ollivander passed the wand to Harry, who held it in his hand, looking rather confused.

"Well, give it a wave." Blinking - and mentally berating himself - Harry did as instructed, waving the wand in a random direction. Almost immediately, roughly thirty drawers from various filing cabinets flew out from the walls, crashing around the store and making an enormous mess.

"Apparently not." Ollivander sounded put out, but Harry had seen the swiftly-hidden grin on the man's face. Turning to a different shelf, the old wizard climbed a stepladder, rummaging around in another pile of boxes, while Harry gingerly placed the wand back on the desk in front of him, hoping he didn't cause any more damage. The money in his vault could probably pay for all the damages, but then what would he use to pay for school?

"Try...this one." Ollivander handed another wand to Harry, this one made of a lighter wood than the previous wand. Harry took it, and waved it in a different direction. A vase exploded, sending a wave of water all over the floor, and causing the flowers it held to be cut to ribbons by shards of the vase.

"No, no, definitely not!" Ollivander spoke slightly louder this time, but Harry noticed the twinkle that was still in his eye, and had a feeling that Ollivander deliberately didn't give people the right wand the first time, just to see what would happen. This time, the old wandmaker went towards the back of the store, peering intently at the various labels on the boxes, while Harry placed the last wand back on the desk next to the first one he tried. By the time he had done that, Ollivander was making his way back to the front of the store, another box in hand.

"Perhaps this one will be right?"

Harry took the dark-red wand from the man, and a feeling of warmth filled him, the same joy he had felt when Hagrid told him he was a wizard filling him up once again. But there was something else about the wand, something he noticed, without knowing how, even as Mr Ollivander clapped and exclaimed that it was a perfect fit.

"It's not."

"Absolutely per- what? What do you mean, it's not?"

"I don't know, sir, it just doesn't feel...whole. Like a part of it is missing. I don't really know how to explain it any better than that, sir."

Ollivander blinked twice, before taking the wand back, and running his own wand along it's length, frowning occasionally. "I can't seem to find anything wrong with it, young man. But you are the one who will be using the wand. Hmm...perhaps the problem lies with you, young man?"

"M-me? What did I do?"

"Perhaps nothing. Perhaps this wand is your intended wand, but you also require some alternate focus? It's possible, I've seen many students come in here and experience something like that. It just means that some part of your magic cannot be used by this focus, and is telling you so. In time, if you obtain a proper focus, the feeling will fade, and it will be easier to use one or the other without that distracting feeling."

"Oh. Um, do you know where I can go to get another focus? And what is a focus, anyway?"

"A focus is simply an object used by a magical being to channel their magical energies. Some use wands, some use rings, necklaces, I know that at least one human used a sword to channel his energy. The type of focus really depends on the magical energy being channeled. If it is particularly strong, then a stronger, more robust focus will be needed. Just the same as lifting a heavy object. If you don't have the strength to lift it, the object will never be lifted. As to where to obtain another focus, I am not certain. There are bound to be alternative shops elsewhere, but for the most part, other races forge their own foci. Gringotts would be the best place for you to go, young man."

"Gringotts? The bank? Why?"

"Yes Gringotts, the bank. And as for why, well, they can perform a heritage test to determine what types of magic you have inherited from your family. And since the goblins use different foci to humans, they would be able to advise you best as to where to find your second focus. Now, the price for your wand is seven Galleons, Mr Potter." Harry pulled out his money, and paid Ollivander, taking his wand - and the box it came in - in return. It was only three hours later that Garrick Ollivander would remember why he had given that particular wand to Harry in the first place, and he began fervently hoping that his fears regarding Lord Voldemort will simply misplaced.

Stepping out of the shop, Harry walked into Hagrid - literally, as the young wizard-to-be was sent sprawling on the cobblestone pavement.

"Oops, sorry 'bout th- 'Arry! Finished up in Ollivanders, then?"

"Yes, Hagrid. But Mr Ollivander said I needed a second focus, so I should go to Gringotts and ask them for help."

"Oh aye? A'right then, 'Arry, let's be on our way. But afore I forget...Happy Birthday!"

Hagrid handed a large cage to Harry, in which a snowy owl with amber eyes sat regally, staring at the messy-haired boy wizard, before something seemed to click in her eyes, and she hooted happily at him, ruffling her wings. Harry finally managed to tear his eyes away from her, looking up at Hagrid in order to stammer out his thanks, sounding rather like Professor Quirrell from earlier.

"Ah, 't weren't nothin', 'Arry. 'Sides, you'll need an owl. Dead useful they are, carry yer mail an' everything. And they make good friends, too."

The newly formed group of three then turned and headed for the large, marble building that served as the wizarding bank, entering through the large, wrought-silver doors for the second time that day, and heading to one of the open tellers.

"Yes?" This goblin seemed even nastier than the first one, Harry thought to himself, as the short being leaned over the desk, sneering down at him.

"Um, Mr Ollivander said I should come and have a heritage test done, to find out what other types of magic I can use, sir."

The goblin's entire demeanour changed almost instantly. "Ah, I see. First one of your family to inherit?"

"Err...I guess so?"

"Not to worry then, young man. If you'll follow me a moment, I'll arrange for the testing." The goblin hopped off his seat, and led Harry, Hagrid, and the new owl through a set of doors cleverly disguised as a wall - Harry could have sworn that they had been a wall before the goblin opened them - before taking them through a series of corridors to a small waiting room, where he left them to - presumably - go find another goblin to perform the test.

"Hagrid? Why did that goblin start treating me so nice when I told him about the heritage test?"

"Don't rightly know, 'Arry. But goblins don' like humans at all. Hate 'em, as a matter o' fact. Probably treated ya better 'cause ya aren' full human, see?"

"Oh. That seems a bit mean, though."

"Aye, it ain't fair, but goblins an' humans 'ave been at each others throats fer centuries, 'Arry. Ya'll learn about it in History class. An' Professor Flitwick, he ain't human at all. Half-goblin, half-dwarf, but don' tell anyone, okay?"

Nodding, Harry promised not to say anything about Professor Flitwick's heritage, silently wondering what the big deal was. The goblin that had shown him and Hagrid to the room reappeared, another goblin walking along behind him, a heavy silver bowl held in his arms. Harry was amazed at the sight, since the bowl looked heavy enough that he would never even be able to lift it, yet the goblin carrying it effortlessly was smaller than him.

"Now then, young man, this is the apparatus needed for the heritage test. Since you are the first in your family to inherit, you will have things explained to you by us, since there are no family members to do so. Should any of your children inherit, it will be your job to teach them about their heritage. Understand so far?"

"Yes sir. What do I need to do?"

"It's very simple. Simply cut your hand with this blade - don't worry, it's been sterilized - and allow seven drops of blood to fall into the silver bowl. Once that is done, we simply sit, and wait. Any magical inheritances you are eligible for will show up. Be aware that only magical cores will show up on this list. Should you wish to trace your physical and financial heritages, that will be a seperate test. Any questions?"

"Um, what exactly is a magical core?"

"It's rather difficult to quantify, however a magical core is, essentially, the source of a person's magic. Different cores exist within a person for different heritages. For example, a half demon, half angel, would have an Angelic magical core, and a Demonic magical core. Incidentally, they would be referred to as a Nephilim, but that isn't important at the moment. Each magical core is only used when that particular branch of magic is being used. For example, a human with a human magical core could use his human core for human magic, but not demonic magic. Is that clearer?"

"Yes sir. Thank you." Harry picked up the blade - an odd, black rock made up the entirety of the knife, and cut his palm with it, allowing seven drops of his blood to fall into the liquid already in the bowl. Sitting back, he put the knife down on the table, and one of the goblins promptly waved a finger at it, cleaning it instantly.

"How did you do that?"

"My personal focus is the ring on my left hand, so I simply cast a cleaning spell silently."

"Oh. So, why did I have to use seven drops of blood? And how will the results be shown?"

"The number seven is the most magically powerful. Any Arithmantic calculation that represents a spell can eventually be reduced to the form 7=7. Otherwise, the spell will not work. At Hogwarts, they don't begin teaching it until third year, and even then it's only an elective. Foolish humans, every one of them. The single most important subject in magic, yet they make it optional? And as for the results, a list of every possible magical core will be shown. Besides each one, there will be a word. The three words are; 'Non-existent', 'Dormant' and 'Active'. They should be rather...self-explanatory, yes?"

Nodding, Harry lapsed into silence, occasionally cooing at his new owl, while trying to think of a good name for her. Hagrid seemed confused, though.

"Wha' exactly do those names mean?"

Sighing, the goblin began explaining. "'Non-existent' is self-explanatory, it simply means that the person does not possess that particular magical core. 'Dormant' means that the person possesses the relevant magical core, but cannot access it. Intense magical trauma can often change the status of a core from 'Dormant' to 'Active'. Additionally, when undergoing ones' magical maturation, it is often the case that a core or two will change from 'Dormant' to 'Active'. It is very rare for anyone to possess more than three magical cores, however. 'Active' simply means that the person possesses the type of core in question, and is able to access it."

A ringing sound emanated throughout the room, seemingly centred on the silver bowl. "Ah, your testing is complete. Well, let's have a look at the results, shall w - Oh my."

Panicking at the tone of the goblin's voice, Harry began asking every question he could think of. "What's wrong? Has something gone wrong with my test results? Do I need to do something else?"

"Calm down, boy. I was simply surprised. I don't often have the priviledge of witnessing the birth of a demigod, after all."

"Demigod? What do you mean?"

"Oh, right, I forget you humans have different definitions of gods and demigods than the rest of us. Gods are deities, pure and simple. Demigods, however, are people, no matter what race, who possess every possible magical core within themselves. Often times, demigods can't access these magical cores, and that is the case here, too."

"Wait, but you said having more than three was impossible!"

"No, I said it was unlikely. And don't get ahead of yourself, boy. You can't even use more than two of them, anyway. The rest are dormant at the moment. Though it will be interesting to see how many are unlocked during your magical maturation."

"Oh. Well, which ones can I use, then?"

"At the moment, you seem to have access to your human magical core, and...well, this is interesting. I haven't heard of one of your kind being born in Britain in over a millenia. You apparently have Summoner blood in you, young lord."

"What's a...summer-ner?"

"The correct pronunciation is 'summoner', young lord. And a summoner is someone who can call forth spirits from a different plane of existence to fight for them."

"Oh. Why did you call me 'young lord'?"

The goblin sighed in aggravation. "That is because, young lord, the summoner race is above the goblins in the hierarchy. And before you ask, the hierarchy is a listing of the various magical races, and each race is awarded a position based upon their power and various other factors. It was last updated two hundred years ago, when demons were elevated to a higher rank than angels. They've been gloating about it ever since."

"Oh. Where do humans fall on the hierarchy?"

"Why do you think we all treat humans with such contempt? They are at the very bottom of the list, the weakest of all magical races. The Nargles could wipe them out, and they are a pacifistic race, for Exodus' sake! Incidentally, the power requirement is based on average magical power across the entire race, so the fact that you are part human will drag their average up a little. Of course, since you appear to be a part of every race, that won't matter much in the long run."

Harry's head was beginning to hurt from the information he was being given. "Ok, so, I need a focus for my summoning magic, don't I?"

"Indeed you do, young lord. Come, I shall have one of our foci-crafters make you your staff."

Harry trailed along after the goblin, who had taken off down the corridor even further, leaving Hagrid to plod along behind them, his new owl and her cage held in one hand. The second goblin removed the testing apparatus, and locked the room behind him. Unknown to all four, a small beetle crawled out through the keyhole, and flew back down the hall, slipping out through the hidden doors when a third goblin opened them, and buzzing off towards the Daily Prophet building.

A/N: So, yay or nay? Should I continue? Or should this story never have been summoned? Leave a review, and thanks for reading!