The zoo incident fetched Harry his longest grounding ever. By the time he was ungrounded again, school was out for the summer vacation. Keeping in with his new resolution, Harry had really tried his best at everything that he did and it had bought along a lot of surprises.
Be it studying or standing up to Dudley and his gang or even cooking and cleaning for the Dursleys he tried to do his best at everything. If his teachers were pleasantly surprised at his sudden boost in academic performance the Dursleys were appalled to say the least. Dudley as usual had only managed to stay afloat. They lost no time in telling off Harry for trying to show up on Dudley and frankly Harry thought that his final results most certainly did extend his grounding period by quite sometime. Well at least this was the last year Harry could be compared to Dudley. Next academic year Dudley was off to Uncle Vernon's old school Smeltings while Harry would be attending the local Stonewall High.
What astonished Harry the most was the reaction of Dudley's gang when he stood his ground instead of running off and retaliated by punching Piers and Gordon on their noses and breaking them in the process. He never thought that he had enough strength to actually break a nose. He had a feeling that the strange energy surge he felt while punching them probably did it. After that instead of getting revenge on Harry, Dudley's gang avoided him like the plague. In fact he wasn't even punished by anyone for the act of violence. He suspected that Piers and Gordon hadn't complained because it would mean losing face in front of the other students that their noses was broken by the puny little Potter; with a three on one fight and Harry had escaped unharmed to boot. Dudley had hardly said a word to him after that and completely ignored Harry.
As the summer wore on Harry found himself taking refuge more and more in the Park after he finished his chores. The Park had a bit of tree-cover which Harry though just about qualified to be called woods at it's extreme end and the woods extended all the way up to the nearby Highway. Nobody ever entered or even flitted near the woods for some reason and they were always empty. Just like the cupboard Harry had come to call the woods his own.
Sometime in late July Dudley finally got his Smeltings uniform which consisted of maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life. Watching Dudley strut around the living room reminded Harry of a fat clown out for fishing rather than a school-boy, but as usual he didn't say anything and quickly made an exit to laugh his heart out in private.
The next morning there was a horrible smell in the kitchen when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in grey water." What's this?" he asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.
"Your new school uniform," she said.
Harry looked in the bowl again. "Let me guess, you are dyeing some of Dudley's old things grey aren't you? I really don't think they will look like Stonewall's regulation uniform."
Aunt Petunia only harrumphed at that.
Breakfast was rather slow as Uncle Vernon and Dudley took every opportunity to wrinkle their nose at the smell. Things were finally interrupted at the sound of the mail being deposited into the mail-box.
"Get the mail boy." Vernon ordered without looking up from his paper.
Not wanting to test his uncle's temper so early in the morning especially on an empty stomach, Harry silently got up from his chair and proceeded to the mail-box. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and -– a letter for Harry.
Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -– he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly, it had his cupboard on the address there simply could be no mistake:
Mr. H. Potter.
The Cupboard under the Stairs,
4 Privet Drive,
Little Whinging,
Surrey.
The envelope looked rather official. It was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.
He barely heard his uncle's bellow for him to hurry up and the wise-crack that followed. As he turned around and headed for the kitchen his mind was racing and he decided that it would be for the best if he hid the letter from his aunt and uncle for the time-being. Something told him that they wouldn't be too happy if he was receiving a strange letter with no return address, no stamp and yet the receiver's address dead-accurate. He stuffed the letter no, his letter he reminded himself happily into his shirt and then went into the kitchen.
It seemed that fate herself had decided that she was going to make Harry wait impatiently to read the letter in private. It was late afternoon by the time Harry finished all his chores for the day and set out for the privacy of the woods.
His aunt had kept him busy through the entire morning and quite some way into the afternoon doing chores and for some reason supervising him again. Harry had noticed that for almost the entire summer now his aunt had literally followed him around nervously like a supervisor or something. She rarely allowed him any free time especially in the mornings. Almost as if she was afraid that…….
"BLOODY HELL!" Harry cursed out loudly for the first time ever in his life. His aunt was expecting him to receiving a letter or some kind of intimation like that. Harry ran the remaining way to the park and settled next to his favourite tree and inspite of his excitement, reverently broke the seal, took a deep breath and then opened the envelope. It had two sheets of some kind of heavy paper inside. Harry took out the first one, it read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress.
Harry's heart sank like an anchor in sea-water. After all the anticipation it turned out to be nothing but a silly joke. A prank someone pulled on him. He had never felt so deflated in his entire life. His eyes started moistening with tears of disappointment. It had been a long time since he had last cried. He had set store so much by that letter for the entire morning. All his expectations of getting some answers went down the drain. He almost had no heart to read the second slip of paper. He was sure it would announce to him that he had been April-Fooled by them.
Yet he went ahead and unfolded the second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
Three sets of plain work robes (black)
One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS:
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Ad Albert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set glass or crystal phials, telescope set, brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.
If Harry was feeling sad and put-out earlier the kind of confusion that he was feeling now was unprecedented for him. He thought that his mind was going to burst with all the thinking. He started to think a bit more rationally rather than emotionally. Who would take this much pain to play such an elaborate prank on him. He knew that Dudley was out of contention; he simply lacked this kind of imagination. He had remained invisible to almost the entire world for most of his life. He doubted anybody in school even knew him other the guy on whom Dudley used to pick on and now as the one who out of no-where came along and topped a couple of subjects. But the address; the address on the letter said 'Cupboard under the staircase'; nobody except the Dursleys and Aunt Marge knew where he slept. The things mentioned in the second slip of paper at least looked simply too detailed to be a hoax.
At that a tiny glimmer of hope started to shine for Harry. Was this witch and magic thing really true? But if it was, why had he never ever heard about it before? Granted he was not such an avid reader but still. Why had he never met a witch or wizard before? Why hadn't his aunt and uncle mentioned anything about him being a wizard before?
Of course! It was as if someone had just switched on flood-lights in his brain. His parents! They must have been wizards. No wonder the Dursleys avoided every mention of them and he knew so less about them. They must have considered them to be abnormal or something, just as they consider him and are always on egg-shells around him……almost……expecting him to do magic. The unusual occurrences, yes the hair-growth, the shrinking sweater the flight onto the roof-top. Those were all magical actions. No wonder the Dursleys were so angry at him.
Harry was now almost convinced beyond doubt that this was not all an elaborate hoax. It was true. He must be, had to be a wizard. But he still had a lot of queries in mind. What did they mean by waiting for an owl? Where was he supposed to buy all the equipment? Where exactly was this school? How was he expected to travel to the school everyday? How was he gonna pay the fees, afford the equipment? Yes, he needed a few answers from the Dursleys. But for receiving answers he needed to ask some questions, which was nothing short of a taboo in the Dursley household. Well even if they did not quite answer his questions, Harry was sure that their reactions to his questions would give him a lot of clues.
Harry spent the rest of the afternoon reading and re-reading the letter for the umpteenth time. He decided to ask his questions immediately, at dinner. By the time dinner-time came along, Harry had worked out the conversation in his mind endlessly and was quite confident about the entire thing. His confidence however deserted him the moment dinner started.
Finally gathering as much courage as he could, he decided that a heads on approach would be the best one to take. So clearing his throat he began. "Aunt Petunia I wanted to ask you something."
The Dursleys stopped eating (well Dudley didn't, but he never did stop eating) and stared at him as if he had grown another head. Finally aunt Petunia nodded and gave her non-verbal consent to continue.
Emboldened by this Harry paused for a moment but then decided that it would be better if he got to the point. Almost recklessly he asked, "When were you going to tell me that I am a wizard and that I can do magic?"
The ensuing reactions confirmed Harry's suspicions beyond doubt. Utter silence followed his question for about 5 seconds. Then the full implications of Harry's question hit his aunt and uncle. His aunt shrieked loudly and fell into a dead faint and unbelievably uncle Vernon squealed like a school-girl and then started screaming expletives at Harry and his parents at the top of his voice (Dudley meanwhile had taken the opportunity to swipe the food off his mother's plate too). Finally uncle Vernon got control over himself and grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and dragged him into his cupboard and locked the door from outside.
Sitting in his cupboard Harry cursed himself. He should have seen this coming. It was Harry's second consecutive day in the cupboard without food. His aunt and uncle had let him out for a few minutes to visit the bathroom. Harry had tried talking with them but they had steadfastly refused to even meet his gaze, instead they simply physically forced him into the bathroom and then out of it. His uncle was more than a match for Harry physically. He wondered if this was going to be his life forever. Nah he thought the Dursleys would have to release him at some point of time. As sleep started to overtake him he realised that it would be the 31st of July next morning. This was going to be his worst birthday ever and that, was saying something.
Harry was woken up the next morning by the loudest knock he had ever heard on the Dursleys' door. Harry was half surprised that the door hadn't been blown off the hinges by now.
"What the hell do you think you are doing mister?" Harry heard his uncle bellow out.
"Er I am just looking for young Harry of course," a gentle voice answered back. Harry's heart took a giant leap at that. He wanted to scream out to the stranger to get him out of the cupboard. But before he could do that his uncle answered rather rudely.
"You are one of his kind aren't you? There is no Harry Potter here. Go away and never ever come back," his uncle said slamming the door on the stranger's face. Then to Harry's surprise he really did hear the noise of the door being broken down and he heard heavy steps into the living room.
"Where is Harry? You answer me now or yer will live to suffer it." Harry was surprised that the voice still sounded gentle.
Finally Harry gathered his wits about and screamed out, "I am here, inside the cupboard under the staircase."
Within seconds the door was lifted off the hinges and Harry clambered out. He came out to face the biggest man he had ever seen in his life. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. No wonder the pad-locked door was no problem for him. He looked like a giant and with the strength of one too.
"Ah' here's Harry!" said the giant.
Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yet dad, but yeh've got yet mum's eyes."
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. I demand that you leave at once, sit!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked a gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. Harry wondered when and why exactly had uncle Vernon procured a gun.
"Anyway -– Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys," a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -– I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right." From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box.
Harry opened it with trembling fingers. It was his first ever birthday gift. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing. Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you? Are you magical?"
The giant chuckled. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
The smile that lit-up Harry's face would have probably made even someone just coming back from a funeral to smile. Harry finally got the thoughts whirring around his mind under control and asked the question he desperately wanted to ask. "So all this magic stuff is true then and I really am a wizard?"
"Of course it is……"began Hagrid."Now wait jus' one second!"
He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole house. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. "Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy -– this boy! – knows nothing' abou' -– about ANYTHING?"
"Hey," Harry began indignantly. "I realized that I am wizard after reading my letter didn't I. All right I may not about anything else about magic but I can learn can't I? I mean that is what school is for isn't it?."
But Hagrid kept on shaking his head. "But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."
"What? My -– my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"
"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.
Boy Harry thought this was getting weirder by the second. He's never heard of his parents he barely knows their names, but now a stranger, a stranger who felt really familiar for some reason comes along and tells him that his parents are famous. The next thing he's going to hear is that he too is famous.
"My parents didn't die in a car-crash did they?" Harry asked the question that had been clawing him since months now.
"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"
"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.
The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.
"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -– but someone's gotta -– yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'." He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -– mind, I can't tell yeh everything', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."
He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with-– with a person called -– but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows--"
"Who? "
"Well -– I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."
"Why not?"
"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..." Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.
"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.
"Nah -can't spell it. All right -– Voldemort. " Hagrid shuddered. "Don't make me say it again. Anyway, this -– this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -– some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -– an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -– an' --"
Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn. "Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -– knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -– anyway..." "You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -– an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -– he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a Powerful, evil curse touches yeh -– took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -– but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -– the McKinnon's, the Bones, the Prewett's -– an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."
For the first time that Harry could remember he saw the green light with much more clarit and heard the laughter. But it wasn't the warm laughter of enjoyment but a high cruel laughter and it gave him the creeps.
Hagrid continued sadly. "Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."
"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harry jumped; he had almost forgotten that the
Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched. "Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured -– and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion -– asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types -– just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end --"
But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley -I'm warning you -– one more word... "
In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.
"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.
Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them."But what happened to Vol--, sorry -– I mean, You-Know-Who?"
"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful -– why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don reckons they could've done if he was comin' back. "Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -– I dunno what it was, no one does -– but somethin' about you stumped him, all right. You wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."
But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.
"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it"
"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter' s son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"
"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL to TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.
But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head,
"NEVER," he thundered, "– INSULT– ALBUS– DUMBLEDORE– IN– FRONT– OF– ME!"
He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -– there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.
Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.
Hagrid stroked his beard and mumbled to himself about not losing him temper and then looked down to Harry, "You do want to go to Hogwarts don't you?" Without hesitation Harry nodded his head. "Well then lets go and buy your school-things shall we. C'mon hurry up."
As Harry was changing he heard Hagrid bellow out to the Dursleys something about him getting his own room and not a damn cupboard. As he was dressing into Dudley's old clothes he realised something that made his heart sink……again.
"Er, Hagrid I don't have any money. How am I going to buy anything?"
"Don't yer worry Harry yer parents left you lots of money in Gringotts. That's the wizard bank run by goblins so money and belongings in it are very very safe. They have spells and enchantments and even dragons guarding high security vaults."
Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"
"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"
"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."
"You'd like one?"
"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -– here we go."
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets. People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
They finally reached London and Hagrid took Harry to the Leaky Cauldron, a pub which acted as the gateway to Diagon Alley, the magical part of London. Hagrid said that the pub was rather famous, it looked rather dodgy to Harry but he followed Hagrid inside.
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -– can this be --?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor." He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand -– I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again -– Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p– pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought. But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on -– lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Harry. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -– mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
"Is he always that nervous?" Professor Quirrell gave Harry a bad feeling for some reason.
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -– never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?" Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.
"Three up... two across." he muttered."Right, stand back, Harry."
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," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."
Harry's first impression of the magical part of London was that it still had the quaint Victorian-era look to it and instead of making it look old-fashioned it made Diagon alley look regal.
"Well yer be needing a cauldron too Harry," Hagrid said watching Harry eye the cauldron shop. "But first we need to get yer money."
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -– Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -– fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...
"Gringotts," said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a-
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
"You have his key, Sir?"
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the you Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed 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," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -– Hagrid with some difficulty -– and were off.
At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.
Hagrid looked very green by the time the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall; Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
All Harry's -– it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.
Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. "The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms; we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
"One speed only," said Griphook.
Harry thought that Griphook was having a bit of fun at Hagrid's expense. He was sure that Griphook could control the speed of the cart. After-all it would be rather bad for business if too many wizards didn't like the cart-ride. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.
"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.
"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -– but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. "Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many
Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -– more money than even Dudley had ever had.
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron?
I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.
The encounter with the pale-faced, platinum haired boy in Madam Malkin's left a sour taste in Harry's mouth. The boy had not only insulted Hagrid but was also going on and on about how muggleborns should not be allowed and stuff like that which sounded really prejudiced to Harry. His description of the houses made Harry feel that he didn't want to be in Slytherin at all. Harry had a feeling that the boy was not going to be Harry's friend at Hogwarts.
FRIENDS. Yes that was going to be a new concept to Harry. He never had a friend till date thanks to Dudley and the Dursleys but he wondered if things were going to be different in the magical world. Of course, they were going to be different; he was a superhero in the magical world. People literally revered him as he had seen in the Leaky Cauldron. Harry thought he didn't really deserve any of this, after all he barely remembered anything from that day except for the green light and the cruel laughter. He sighed out loudly; he might end up with no friends in the magical world but for completely different reasons.
Noticing Harry's quiet thoughtfulness Hagrid asked him; "What's bothering yer Harry? You can talk to me whenever you want yer know."
"What's Hogwarts like Hagrid? Who are the other professors? Where exactly is it? What are the other students like?" Harry asked hoping for some extra information.
"Well ter tell yer frankly you should experience Hogwarts for yerself rather than listen to somebody else's description of Hogwarts, Harry. I will tell yer this much it is simply beautiful and you will meet the teachers in the first week. As to where is Hogwarts, I believe it's in Scotland."
"What are the students like? I mean, I have been quite a loner in school so far. Do you think you know……" Harry asked not quite managing to finish his question.
"Ah don't yer worry Harry I am telling ya, yer already famous, I am sure you will find enough friends who will look beyond yer fame and be good friends to you. It will depend on which house you end up in but there are good people in all the houses. If you are yer in Gryffindor, that's the old house of yer parents you might be friends with the Weasleys. I think they got a boy coming in this year and a daughter the next. The Weasley twins are in already. Stay alert when you are around them though, a bunch of real pranksters they are. Red-haired demons I tell yer those twins."
Harry's ears prickled-up at the sound of the daughter for some reason, almost as if he was forgetting something about her. Strange, Harry thought considering that he was very sure that he had never heard of or met the Weasley's before. But the thought of the Weasley girl spread a warm feeling inside his stomach, a feeling which Harry couldn't quite identify but he liked that feeling.
They got Harry's books next where Harry picked up a lot of extra-reading material. He picked up a book which was supposed to give basic information to muggleborns wizards and to Hagrid's surprise he decided to purchase a lot of Potions' books including the ones assigned up to the 4th year as he found it really, really fascinating. Hagrid only shook his head muttering about getting Lily's brains along with her eyes which for some reason made Harry heart swell to the size of a football.
Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.
"Just yer wand left – A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Harry felt himself go red. "You don't have to --"
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at – an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls; they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to. The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
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. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it -– it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
"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 shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.
"Er -– yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. He had a sneaking suspicion where the missing pieces were concealed.
"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -– Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Er -– well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try --"
Harry tried -– but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."
Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become. "Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere -– I wonder, now – – yes, why not -– unusual combination -– holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... "
He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering,
"Curious...curious….
"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed 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."
Harry swallowed and he was suddenly very afraid. "You mean that in the future I will become like….."
Mr. Ollivander's voice suddenly became very serious; "Mr. Potter no one can ever predict the future. You getting the brother of the Dark Lord's wand does not entail that you will become like him. The wand chooses the wizard mind you not the other way round. It only means that you are destined to do great things Mr. Potter. The Dark Lord did many cruel things Mr. Potter but magically great things. Don't let the wand influence you in any way let your heart and brain influence you in tandem and you will never go wrong."
Harry shivered and yet felt better than he did a couple of minutes before. He paid for the wand and then Hagrid and he made their way back to the subway to take a train to Surrey.
Harry and Hagrid looked rather peculiar carrying packages of weird shapes and sizes not to mention Hagrid's size. Hagrid bought him a hamburger and then gave the Hogwarts Express' train ticket to Harry. As he sat in the tube-train Harry was very thoughtful. He realised that when he went to Hogwarts a lot of people were going to expect a lot of things from him; if Professor Quirrell and Mr. Ollivander were anything to go by. It scared him frankly but it also gave him a strange thrill. He promised himself that he would try his best to meet as many expectations as possible. Well expectations which would satisfy his heart and brain at least. He knew that his parents would have wanted that.
As Harry prepared to sleep in Dudley's second bedroom that night (the Dursleys it seemed were rather afraid of Hagrid) he realised that all considered it had been his best birthday ever.
