Nico POV
You wouldn't expect landing headfirst onto concrete to be soft, but I guess nothing is ever predictable when it comes to magic.
"This way, boys." Hagrid says, leading us though the crowd, who didn't pay any attention to the scrawny boys and giant.
"Where are we going?" Harry asks, attempting to tame the porcupine he calls hair.
"Diagon Alley O'course. I doubt either of ye have 'eard of it." Hagrid replies.
"Dragon Alley?" I ask. Greek mythology I understand, but magic is just ridiculous.
"D-i-a-g-o-n alley. I would like me'self a dragon though." Hagrid corrects. "It where we're gonna get all yer school supplies."
"But Hagrid" Harry says shyly "I don't have any money."
"Neither." I agree. I hadn't thought about that. I suppose I could try to steal some.
"It'll be fine. Yer got a vault, Harry. I don't know 'bout yer Nico. Yer could be a muggle-born, but yeh would have already had all this explained to yer…." He answers, making Harry visibly relax and confusing me.
"This is it." Hagrid says, coming to a halt in front of a grubby looking bar. "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
Apart from the people in odd robes and hats doing magic it doesn't appear to be anything special.
The low buzz of chatter stopped when we walk in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they wave and smile at him.
"The usual Hagrid?" The bartender asks.
Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business." Hagrid says, clapping each of his hands on my and Harry's soldiers shoulder.
Everyone turns, gawking at Harry.
"Good Lord." The bartender mutters, peering at Harry and ignoring me. "Is this - can this be -?"
Before I can blink everyone gets gotten up and start hording around Harry. Why are they so interested in him?
It was almost a relief to be invisible to them. I've never stood out. I haven't been able to, someone might figure me out.
After twenty minutes of Harry shaking hands with people I'm bored out of my mind.
I turn to see a nervous looking man, shaking Harry's hand.
"Professor Quirrell!" exclaims Hagrid. "Harry, Nico, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammers Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."
"What do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Harry asks him.
"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts." muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that e-either of you'll n-need it, eh?" 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 says, looking terrified at the very thought.
Professor Quirrell was quickly pushed out of the way. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all.
Eventually, Hagrid manages to make himself heard over the babble. "Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, boys."
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'." Hagrid tells Harry.
"Why is he famous?" I ask, confused as to what the big deal is about Harry.
Harry looks down "There used to be this evil Wizard called Voldemort. He hasn't been seen since the night he killed my parents."
"Not to be rude, but I don't see how that would make you famous."
"Harry 'ere survived deh death curse, eh is de only one." Hagrid explains.
"Is Quirrell always that nervous?" Harry asks, obviously eager to change the topic.
"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 first-hand 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 owns subject now, where's me umbrella?" Hagrid explains, counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.
"Three up... Two across." he muttered. "Right, stand back."
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.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley." Hagrid grins.
We stare in amazement, studying the scene in front of us.
"Gringotts." Hagrid explains. 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 -"Yeah, that's a goblin." Hagrid explains quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him.
The goblin 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.
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it." Hagrid says.
There goes the stealing money idea.
A pair of goblins bow them through the silver door to a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins are 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.
We go over to the counter.
"Morning." Hagrid says to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter and possibly Nico Di Angelo's safes."
"You have their keys, Sir?"
"Not Nico's, but I Got Harry's here somewhere." Hagrid says, before emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of mouldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkles his nose.
"Got it." Hagrid says at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
"Potter's key seems to be in order." The goblin tells us, before turning to grumble at me "We could do a blood to see if he's inherited anything."
I agree and the Goblin takes out a piece of parchment, pouring some kind of potion on it. The goblin asks for my finger and I reluctantly agree. He pricks my finger and when my blood reaches the parchment it mixes with the potion to form the words Di Angelo Overseas Vault
"Very well, Mr Di Angelo. I shall get the spare key." He grumbles "try not to lose this one."
"Friendly aren't they?" I mutter.
Once the Goblin returned with my key Hagrid speaks again.
An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid says importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin reads the letter carefully. "Very well, "he says, before handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"
Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed the goblin Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.
"Can't tell yeh that." Hagrid says mysteriously "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my jobs worth ter tell yeh that."
After a nauseating ride to the mystery vault where Hagrid only took one small package, we reach Harry's vault, where Harry starts filling his pockets with as much gold as he could carry.
When we reach my vault, I see a good pile of gold and bronze, After I had filled my bag with several handfuls of gold, I follow the others back to the cart.
Hagrid leds us to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
"Listen, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."
"Hogwarts?" Madam Malkin asks when we arrive at the robes store. "Got the lot here, another young man's being fitted up just now, in fact."
I look over to the back of the shop to see a pointed face boy with blonde hair standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.
Madam Malkin stands Harry and I on stools on either side of him.
Another woman appears and throws long robes over my head before starting to pin them.
I resist the urge to throw her off of me. I hate people touching me.
"Hello." The pale boy says, studying us "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes." Harry answers.
"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands." The boy says in a bored boy. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. "
I'm against judging someone right away as a rule but this boy strongly reminds me of some of the spoiled brats from Westover hall.
"Have either of you got your own broom?" the boy goes on.
"No." Harry answers.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No." Harry answers again, looking confused.
Maybe I should talk as well. But I don't know much about magic either, nor do I have any interest in talking to this boy.
"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?"
"No." Harry says, looking a bit upset.
"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?"
"I don't see how any house would be better than another." I say, since Harry is clearly embarrassed by not knowing.
I'm guessing the houses are like the cabins we have back at camp. Maybe I won't fit in anywhere just like at camp. I'll have to leave there too.
"Of course some houses are better." The boy snorts.
"Maybe if one of the houses is full of you and the rest of your snobbish family." I reply, making him turn purple.
"How dare you!" he screeches
Before I could say anything more the boy talks again "Is that freak with you?" He asks with a smug smile.
"That's Hagrid." Harry says nervously. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Ah yes, the half breed servant. Is he your father? Then again your both more freakishly small than giant like him."
"We're not related." Harry mutters, blushing.
"Who are your parents then? They were our kind weren't they" The boy asks, glaring at me.
"They were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean." Harry answers.
The boy clearly calms down, obviously still assuming we're brothers.
"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's your surname, anyway?"
But before I could argue with him even more, the witch doing Harry's robes says, "That's you done, my dear." and Harry, obviously not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hops down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." the boy drawls, clearly unhappy to be stuck with just me.
"So your surname?" he asks again once Harry was gone.
"Di Angelo." I reply, still glaring at him.
The boy seems a little frightened of my glare, which almost makes me smirk.
He looks thoughtful for a moment. "Weren't they an old Italian wizarding family?"
I can't remember anything about my family. Were we really wizards?
"That's you done too, dear." The witch who had been sewing my robes tells me.
"Thank you." I say, getting off the stool, not even saying goodbye to the blonde.
As I was attempting to eat my ice-cream (not wanting to waste something Hagrid was so nice to give me) I notice Harry being very quiet.
"What's up?" Hagrid asks him.
"Nothing." Harry lies.
After that Hagrid brought us to buy parchment and quills. Honestly I didn't even have to use a quill back in the 40's, this is just ridiculous.
"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?" Harry asks.
"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know, not knowin' about Quidditch!"
"Don't make me feel worse." says Harry, before explaining what the boy said.
"Neither of yer are from muggle families. If he'd known who yeh were, Harry. He's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in along line 0' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"
Hagrid sounds right. Muggleborns would probably work a lot harder than people who have grown up with magic, not to mention they wouldn't have all the same prejudice.
"So what is Quidditch?" Harry asks.
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like-like soccer in the Muggle world, everyone follows Quidditch. It's played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard ter explain the rules. "
"What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" I ask.
"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but…"
"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" Harry says gloomily.
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin." Hagrid says darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one. "
"That sounds like stereotyping." I say, remembering what the kids at camp say about children of Hades.
Hagrid looks thoughtful for a moment. "Yer haven't met em. I've been working at Hogwarts for years and Slytherin's have always been dark."
I grit my teeth. Hagrid's a nice guy, but that can't be true. "I doubt a quarter of the school are evil."
"You'll see when yeh get there." Hagrid says ending the conversation.
Next we went to a shop called Flourish and Blotts.
After II found my books I went straight to the history section, hoping to learn more about what role the gods play in this world.
After finding nothing, I gave up and made my way over to Harry who was curled up in the Curses and Counter-curses section.
Before I had reached Harry, a book flew towards my head, almost toppling me over.
I turn, ready to fight whoever attacked me to see a girl around my age looking a mix of embarrassment and trying to hold in her laughter.
She has porcelain white skin, long white-blonde hair, angular features and mischievous grey eyes.
"Sorry!" she squeaks, failing to hold in her laughter.
"Watch it." I hiss, scowling.
"Don't get your panties in a twist." She says, rolling her eyes
"Don't attack strangers." I reply, folding my arms.
"It was an accident. I'm new to this magic thing." She grumbles.
I notice she's wearing muggle clothes. Frayed black jeans, combat boots and a baggy maroon shirt with the words "Shhhh or the voice in my head will have to shout."
"Whatever." I grumble, storming towards Harry who Hagrid was attempting to drag away from his book.
"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley." Harry grumbles.
"Having the name Dudley sounds like punishment enough." I say, announcing my presence and making Harry chuckle.
"Not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances." says Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."
They went to a few more shops, getting them caldrons and other ridiculous things I can't believe I actually need.
Once we left the apothecary Hagrid checksthe list again.
"Just yer wand left .A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present, Harry." Hagrid says, making Harry turn red.
"It's your birthday?" I ask.
"You don't have to…"Harry says, clearly embarrassed.
"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'." Hagrid says.
It's probably best I don't get one. Animals hate me.
Twenty minutes later Harry had an owl and we were on our way to get our wands.
"You can borrow her sometimes if you'd like. You'll family will probably want to hear from you" Harry tells me, looking a bit sad at the mention of family.
"I don't have a family." I say quietly.
Harry gives me an understanding look
The last shop is narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C.
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.
"Good afternoon." A soft voice says.
An old man is standing in front of us, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "
"Hello." Harry says awkwardly.
Ah yes." says the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. "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 moves closer to Harry.
I'm glad he hasn't noticed me yet, I doubt particularly feel like having anyone that close to me.
"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course. "
"And that's where... "Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry'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..." he trails off.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes." Ollivander says, turning his attention to Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" Mr. Ollivander says, suddenly stern.
"Er - yes, they did, yes." Says Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he adds brightly.
"But you don't use them?" Mr Ollivander says sharply.
"Oh, no, sit, " said Hagrid quickly. I notice he's gripping his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. "Hmmm." said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look, before turning to me.
"My my my, you I don't know." He says, studying me.
"My family was Italian." I say quickly.
I notice Harry smiling a little, muttering "explains the accent."
"Hmm." Olivander murmurs suspiciously.
"Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see. "He says, returning his attention to Harry, starting to do different tests, measuring him.
"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." Ollivander explains, measuring Harry's nostrils.
"That will do." he says, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter." He says before retrieving a wand for Harry.
"Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave. "Harry only waved it around for a few seconds before Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand.
If Harry's having such trouble finding one what about me? I'm not even entirely human, what if none of them work? What if the school just mistook my demigod abilities for magic?
This happened several times before Harry finally found one that suited him.
"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... How curious... How very curious... "He puts Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... Curious.
"Sorry. Harry says, "But what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixes Harry with his pale 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. 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."
Harry visibly shivers.
"Your turn. What was your name again?" Oliivander asks me.
"Nico Di Angelo." I answer, making his eyes light up.
"Ah."
"Ah, I only ever served one Di Angelo, a Miss Bianca Di Angelo in 1931 quite a peculiar wand I must say…" he trails off. "And I met her mother Maria Di Angelo ninety years ago. Winner of the Twiwizard tournament I believe, needed her wand fixed after a dragon almost burnt it to a crisp…" He remembers dreamily.
Bianca was a witch? And Maria Di Angelo? He said she was Bianca's mother… my mother.
The reminder that I can't even remember my own mothers name is like a punch to the gut.
Before I could say anything else Oliivander speaks again. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Left." I answer.
He nods and starts measuring me like he did Harry. I resist the urge to stab him when he gets so close to me.
Once he eventually stops he brings me a long twisted looking stick.
"11 inches, oak, dragon heart-string, good for defence." He says, placing the wand in my hand before almost immediately removing it.
"No, no, no." he mutters, retrieving another wand.
"9 inches, unicorn hair, willow." He says with a look of uncertainty on his face.
I attempt to wave this one, breaking a vase.
"Won't do." He mutters, snatching it from my hand, making me feel put off.
Several wands later he returns with a long twisty black one with intricate carvings.
"Give it a wave." He says, nervously.
When I hold it a feeling of warmth surrounds me and green lights shoot out the end.
"What is this one?" Hagrid asks, clearly surprised he hadn't announced it.
"13 inches, dementor cloak core and wood from a whomping willow apparently from Persephone herself's garden." He announces, looking proud of himself.
Of course my wood would be from my horror of a step-mother's garden.
"You didn't mention those ingredients earlier." Harry says, looking confused.
"They're very rare." He says, putting my new wand back in the box and wrapping it as he had done with harry.
I give him the seven galleons and leave.
We're all very quiet as we leave Diagon Alley and make our way to dinner.
Hagrid offered to buy us both burgers as apparently we're both far too skinny.
"Yer alright? Yer both very quiet, "said Hagrid.
"It's nothing… just that everyone thinks I'm special. "Harry answers. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... But I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry – I mean, the night my parents died. "
"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."
After he dropped Harry off Hagrid brings me back to America by pork-key. "Will yer be alrigh getting ter the train?"
I nod. I'll just have to shadow travel. "I have some muggle money for a plane ticket." I lie.
"Don't be afraid to contact me, just find an owl." He says with a kind smile. "Be nice to them though."
I almost smile.
Once Hagrid's gone I shadow travel to the underworld to leave my bags in my room, avoiding being noticed by father. If he found me it would be… well hell.
