Chapter 2

The last days of August fell upon Godric's Hollow in a cloud of mist. The graveyard had taken on a spooky, cinematic look, and the neighborhood pub was always full in the evenings with travelers happy to take a break from the damp weather outside. The Potter's cat, who had not left the house all week, had taken to chasing dust motes around the sitting room, knocking over stacks of books as his bandy legs sought a surface on which to land.

Harry Potter woke early on the morning of August twenty-seventh and peeked hopefully through his window curtains, but quickly crumpled back into his bed, disappointed. He had hoped it might finally be sunny outside, so that his father would consent to a morning broomstick ride. They hadn't gone for a fly in over a week, and Harry was anxious to get a little more use out of his new broom before he was forced to leave it behind. Professor McGonagall's letter had been very clear; "PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS". Harry had asked his Uncle Remus what had happened to warrant such a vehement warning, but Remus had merely chuckled fondly and glanced askance at James.

Harry got out of bed slowly, unable to shake his annoyance at the determinedly foul weather. It was not until he had shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and caught sight of the calendar hanging on the wall beside his bed that he realized, with a great burst of excitement, what day it was. Tuesday, at last! Today was the day that he, Harry James Potter, was finally going to become the owner of a wand.

He bounced around his bedroom getting ready, dressing quickly before shoving a couple owl treats through the bars of his sleeping pet's cage. He then bounded down the stairs to the kitchen, where he found a bleary James reviving slowly over a large mug of coffee. Harry's mother and sister were nowhere in sight.

"Where're mum and Tilly?" He asked his father while pouring himself a bowl of cornflakes. "Aren't we going shopping today?" He was suddenly worried he had remembered the day wrong.

"Oh yes, yes! We are going shopping today!" James replied, assuaging Harry's fears. "Mum has to work today - Mungo's sent her a patronus this morning, saying there was an emergency situation. Apparently someone tried to drink an entire cauldronful of Felix Felices. Not pretty! And Mrs. Bagshot is tending Mathilda today, because I thought it might be easier for us to shop without her."

Harry grinned at his father, glad that he had thought of this arrangement. He loved his sister very much, but on a day as important as this one, he was happy to have his father all to himself.

"So, when can we leave? How're we getting there?" Harry demanded to know. "Are we flooing? Can we do side-along apparition? Oooh, can we use our brooms?"

"No, we cannot fly!" James replied, his eyes twinkling behind their square spectacles. "We are going to floo, but first we need to wait for Neville. I told Mrs. Longbottom that we would take him shopping, as well."

"Oh, good-oh! When is he getting here?" Harry asked.

"Any minute now. In fact," James shook back his sleeve to peek at his watch, "he should've been here approximately two and half minutes ago."

Even as James said this, a great green fire roared to life in the kitchen hearth, and a short, plump, blond boy stumbled out onto the rug, coughing ash.

"S-sorry I'm l-late, M-mister P-P-Potter," Neville Longbottom forced out between coughs. "I c-couldn't - cough - find my - cough - school list."

James flashed a grin at Harry, and then turned to Neville, reassuring him.

"Not to worry, son! Not to worry!" He said kindly. "Well then, boys, shall we be on our way?"

Harry nodded vigorously, Neville rather less so. He clearly wasn't excited by the prospect of another trip through the Floo Network so soon after his last one.

"C'mon, Neville!" Harry cajoled him. "Wands! We're getting wands! This will be so fun!"

Neville nodded, but still looked a little woebegone. "I'm not getting a new wand," he muttered. "Gran's making me use my dad's old wand."

Harry looked to his father for help. He never quite new what to say when Neville started talking about his mum or dad, who had both been killed in the First Wizarding War.

James jumped in, saying gently, "Your dad was a great wizard Neville, and you will be too, someday. I'm sure his wand will suit you perfectly.'

Neville looked up gratefully, and then, finally, allowed himself a small smile.

"Hey, Harry," he suddenly called out. "I'll bet they've got new Puddlemere gear at Quality Quidditch! And my gran said I could buy a new jersey if I wanted to."

"Cool!" Harry replied. "Let's get going, then, before all the good ones are taken."

James reached out to take the little jar of glittering Floo powder from the mantel, and then passed it to both Harry and Neville in turn.

"You go first, Harry," he said. "Remember to speak very clearly, now. I don't want you ending up in Knockturn Alley again! Lily would kill me…"

Harry stepped into the fireplace, dropped his pinch of powder, and was immediately engulfed in the pleasantly warm, chin-licking flames.

"Diagon Alley!" he cried out in a clear voice. For one moment longer, he was gazing at his father and Neville. Next second, however, he was spinning at an alarming rate. He tucked in his elbows and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the spinning to slow and for the cheerful sounds of The Leaky Cauldron to fill his ears.

"So, where to first?" James asked the two boys. The threesome had just left Gringott's, having visited both the Longbottom and Potter vaults.

"Quality Quidditch Supplies!" both boys chorused.

"Okay, okay!" James responded, chuckling.

They arrived at the shop to find a large crowd of people at the window, gaping at the Nimbus Two Thousand on display there. Harry's stomach gave a happy squirm as he thought about his very own Nimbus waiting for him at home. Neville gave a little moan of envy.

"I can't believe you got one of those for your birthday, Harry! Gran hasn't ever even let me ride one, let alone gotten me one for my birthday!"

Harry privately thought that Augusta Longbottom was quite right in keeping her clumsy grandson with two feet firmly planted on the ground. He caught his father's eye, and they shared a brief look of wry agreement before walking into the shop behind Neville.

Quality Quidditch Supplies was full to bursting with people, most of whom appeared to be Hogwarts students and their parents. From one corner of the shop decorated in lurid hues of green, Harry heard a short boy holding forth on the Kestrel-Cannons match that had taken place the previous Saturday.

"Did you see Lynch's snitch catch? Nearly pissed myself - it was sitting right under Gudgeon's nose!"

Meanwhile, a harassed-looking sales clerk had nearly disappeared in the crush of eager shoppers, all of whom seemed determined to get their hands on a Nimbus.

"Now, now, folks! I'll get to everyone, I promise. Just line up - that's it - and get your gold ready. If we run out today, you can put in a owl order! That's right, folks. Everyone will get one eventually!"

Harry and Neville had, of course, made a bee-line for the corner of the shop devoted to Puddlemere United merchandise. Navy tee-shirts patterned with golden bulrushes twinkled down from the high shelves, and the seven players waved cheerfully at them from large posters. As Harry watched, the seeker Benjy Williams winked at him and smugly brandished a frantically-struggling golden snitch.

By the time they had emerged from the shop three quarters of an hour later, Neville and Harry were both laden down with new tee-shirts and posters with which to decorate the walls of their dormitories. James then shepherded the two boys to Madam Malkin's to be fitted for Hogwarts robes.

While Neville and Harry were being fussed over by the shop assistant, Madam Malkin herself spoke with James.

"Will you be needing any new dress robes, Mr. Potter? I seem to remember the last set you bought was for your wedding to Mrs. Potter. Surely, a dashing auror like yourself is need of something a little more fashionable?"

James laughed heartily at this shameless pitch, but politely declined the offer.

"No, no! Lily and I don't get out much since Mathilda was born. And I still have my unfashionable robes for any emergency occasions."

When both boys were armed with three sets of robes apiece - along with cloaks, hats, and gloves - the three shoppers made their way towards Flourish and Blotts.

Harry had only gone one step inside the shop when he was bowled over by what he took, at first, to be an enormous stack of spell books and frizzy brown hair.

"Oh my goodness! Oh, gosh! I am ever so sorry! Oh, here, let me help you up!"

What had first appeared to be a mountain of books turned out to be a young girl, around Harry's age, with copper-colored skin and a halo of curly, dark brown curls. She had been carrying, it seemed, half the contents of the bookshop up towards the register. Harry pushed himself to his feet and turned to see both James and Neville positively howling with laughter. He felt a dark blush creeping across his face, and busied himself helping the girl to collect her books to delay the moment he would have to rejoin his companions.

"Thanks ever so much!" the girl said fervently. "I am really so, so sorry! I couldn't see where I was going. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

She stuck out her hand, and Harry took it.

"I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Pleasure to meet you! I'm going to be a first-year at Hogwarts, and I've been rushing around all day trying to get my shopping done. I was ever so shocked to get my letter, because both my parents are muggles. But I'm terribly excited, of course! And, goodness, overwhelmed. When Professor McGonagall showed up last month to explain everything to my parents, well, I mean to say, I hardly believed her for the longest time. But, she showed me some magic, and I mean, well, wow! I mean to say, I think it's brilliant, of course, but I never knew! Are you going to Hogwarts? Did you know anything before you got your letter?"

The girl - Hermione - said this all very fast, and didn't seem to need to breath as much as other people did. She was now looking at Harry expectantly, and it was several moments before he realized she had asked him a question and managed to pull his jaw off the floor.

"I'll be a first year at Hogwarts as well," he said. "My parents are a witch and wizard, so I wasn't so surprised to get my letter. But," he added thoughtfully, "my mum is a muggleborn, and I know she was rather surprised when she found out."

By now, James and Neville had come over to see what was going on. Hermione Granger turned to both of them and shook their hands eagerly, telling them both the same things she had told Harry. When she had finished her little introduction, Neville looked about ready to take a seat and James' eyes were sparkling with suppressed laughter.

"Can I help you carry your books to the till?" James asked her. "Where are your parents?"

"Oh, they're over there with the assistant in the corner. They're a bit overwhelmed by all the magic, you know." Hermione reeled off. "But I'm not overwhelmed!" She added quickly, determined, it seemed, that no one should mistake her total control over the situation.

"Oh, I can see that you're not overwhelmed!" James chortled.

"What're you doing with all those books?" Neville demanded to know. "There are only eight books on our lists, you know."

Hermione looked Neville squarely in the face and replied, surprise and disdain evident in her voice, "You can't mean to say you'll only be purchasing the books on our list! I want to get as much background reading done as possible! You never know," she added earnestly, "when something you read is going to come in handy."

With that, Hermione marched up to the portly sales clerk who began ringing up her purchases, shock evident on his face.

Harry and Neville found all the books on their list. When James teasingly suggested they each pick up a few more for "background reading", the two boys shook their head vehemently, looking so terrified that James laughed out loud. After paying for their set books, they left the shop and, looking down at their lists, discuss where they ought to go first.

"All we have left to buy is our potions making equipment. Scales and cauldrons and whatnot." Neville said. "Oh, and a telescope!"

"And my wand!" Harry added eagerly. "Don't forget my wand!"

"We can swing past Dervish and Bangs and the apothecary, and then we'll go directly to Ollivander's." James said.

Hearing this, Harry positively ran towards the apothecary, which was across the way from the bookshop. He absolutely could not wait to get his wand.

Harry approached the door to Ollivander's shop with a timidity he had not felt all the rest of the day. Pushing into the shop, his previously unadulterated excitement was tinged with some apprehensions he could not place. The dim quiet of the wand shop settled over him, and he looked back to ensure his father was following him in. He was suddenly overcome by the desire to grab onto his father's hand, but he ignored the impulse. Wands were for grown up wizards, and he insisted on proving himself worthy.

James cleared his throat loudly, and Ollivander sidled into view. The old man had a cloud of cottony white hair and enormous, protuberant silvery eyes.

"Ah, yes. Young Mr. Potter, here to buy his first wand. And James! I remember when you bought your wand all too well. It took, what was it, twenty-three different tries?"

"Twenty-six, sir." James said, grinning. "But we found the right one in the end. It still works perfectly for me."

"I think you mean to say, James, that the right one found you. Let me see if I remember it - pliable mahogany, eleven inches, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir. Containing a single dragon heartstring." James responded.

"Precisely. An excellent wand for transfiguration work, I'm sure you have found."

"Indeed!" James said, and he winked mischievously at Harry. Harry was aware that, unbeknownst to most of the wizarding community, James was an unregistered animagus - transfiguration was certainly one of his strengths.

"Well, today you are here for your son. We shall soon see what wand favors him." Ollivander observed ominously. "Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded meekly, and shuffled forward.

"Which is your wand hand?" Ollivander asked brusquely.

Harry wordlessly raised his right hand, and a measuring tape appeared from the folds of Ollivander's robes busied itself measuring various dimensions of Harry's body. Meanwhile, the wandmaker was pulling narrow boxes from the towering shelves that lined the room. He muttered to himself all the while, and from time to time glanced back at Harry to give him an appraising sort of look. Every time he did this, Harry felt his blood turn to ice. He decided that he did not like Mr. Ollivander very much at all.

Finally, Ollivander recalled the measuring tape and handed Harry the first wand to try.

"Oak and unicorn hair. Twelve and a quarter inches. Quite bendy. Go on - give it a wave!"

Harry glanced over where his father and Neville had taken seats, and James gave him an encouraging nod. Harry took a deep breath and waved the oak wand through the air. Nothing happened so far as Harry could see, but Ollivander positively ripped the wand from Harry's hand.

"Not quite! No matter. Here - alder and dragon heartstring, nine and a half inches. A bit brittle."

Harry reached for the new wand, but barely had it touched his fingertips that Ollivander snatched it away again.

"Not at all! Not at all, dear boy! Here, try this. Ten inches, sycamore and unicorn tail hair. Very swishy."

Harry was allowed to give this wand a wave, and Ollivander did not grab it away immediately, but rather stared with his strange eyes glimmering.

"Hmm. No, not quite. But closer! We are getting closer all the time!"

He took the wand and then turned his back on Harry, apparently searching for a new possibility for him to try. At length, he chose a new wand for Harry to try. Almost hesitantly, he placed the wand in Harry's hand, his eyes wide and expectant.

At once, a strange sensation of warmth spread up Harry's arm. His fingers tingled as they gripped the wand, and as he raised the wand above his head, a shower of golden sparks flew from the tip.

"Oh, very good! Very good, Mr. Potter. Yes, eleven and three-quarter inches, cedar and phoenix feather. Pleasantly springy. This wand, Harry, has chosen you."

James and Neville had both clamored to their feet and were applauding Harry. Looking over, Harry was surprised to see tears of pride welling in James' eyes.

"Most excellent, Mr. Potter. A powerful wand for a powerful boy, I am sure." The wandmaker remarked. He looked to Harry on the verge of saying something more, but then thought better of it. Harry, curious though he was, was not eager to engage this man in conversation once again. Instead, he ran towards his father to be wrapped in a warming and encouraging hug.

"Good job, son." Came James' muffled voice. "I am so proud."

James then stepped towards Ollivander and paid for the wand, placing the long box holding it into the pocket of his robes. When the transaction was complete, he ushered Harry and Neville out of the shop.

"Anyone fancy an ice cream cone?" he asked the two boys gaily. "Fortescue's is just 'round the corner."

Neville and Harry, who were feeling very hungry indeed, chorused a "Yes, please!', so the party headed to the brightly colored ice cream parlor. Fortescue, who had been friends with James' father, Fleamont, greeted them warmly and served the two boys choco-nut sundaes, on the house.

"You know," Harry said thickly through a mouthful of hot fudge, "I think I've finally decided on a name for my owl."

"Oh, yeah?" James replied, "What's that?"

"Iris." Harry said. "Like mum's favorite flower."

"I like it!" said Neville. "And hey, that sounds good with Trevor. Maybe they'll be friends!"

"I doubt it," countered James. "More likely that Iris will try to eat Trevor. Owls like her probably think toads like Trevor are tasty morsels! I would keep them apart, if I were you!"

Neville looked a bit taken aback by this view of things, and set down his spoon with a queasy sort of grimace. James chuckled, and ruffled Neville's hair.

"Harry won't let Iris eat Trevor, Neville! Don't worry!"