Again, skipping some stuff. I'm gonna go straight to Diagon Alley, cuz I'm sick of writing the whole thing out. Sorry, but I can't rewrite the whole thing and not throw up after rereading Harry Potter for the billionth time. I liked Harry Potter, but not that much. Also, I changed the house names, have fun reading! Disclaimer: "Does it need saying?" References, references… 10 bonus points to whatever few reviewers I may have who can name the character who said that, in what episode, series, or TV show. The bonus points mean you can now buy… nothing, sorry, I got nothing. Give yourself a hug, I guess, for being right.
The pub Hagrid led Harry to, was a small, dark place tucked away between a records shop and a book store.
"This is famous?" Harry muttered to himself as he followed Hagrid.
"The usual, Hagrid?" a shrivel-faced man squinted at Hagrid with a gaping smile missing more than a couple teeth.
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid clapped Harry on the shoulder with one large hand, causing Harry's knees to buckle slightly.
"Good Lord," the bartender whispered, eyes wide at Harry, "is this… can this be…?"
"Harry Potter, sir," Harry said nervously, eyes twitching about the pub and its silent occupants. Before he knew it, he was swamped by them, shaking more hands and meeting more people that he thought possible. It took ten minutes for Hagrid to extricate him from the crowd so they could shop, but a shaky young man with an eye-tic took his hand and shook it nervously to shake.
"P-P-Potter, c-c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to m-meet you… I'm P-P-Professor Q-Quirrel…"
"What do you teach, sir?" Harry asked interestedly, noting the strangely terrified-sounding stammer.
"D-Defense against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Quirrel, looking scared of his own subject. "N-Not that you'll n-need it, eh, P-Potter?" He twitched a small smile.
"C'mon, Harry, gotta getcher books, but money from Gringotts firs'," Hagrid prodded him on the back through the bar to the small, walled courtyard in the back. Hagrid took out his umbrella and aimed it at a couple of bricks, muttering to himself as a gentle yellow light shone once more form the end of the umbrella. Harry watched, awed, as the bricks slid away to reveal a wide street, shops lining the walkways and sidewalks. People in robes and with owls on their shoulders, carrying bags and cages of strange animals, walked around. Boys crowded outside one window, calling about a broom in ecstatic tones.
Harry soon stood before the huge white marble bank that excelled all the others in size. A small creature in gold and red uniform stood at guard with a weathered, clever face and a pointed beard. His fingers and feet jutted lengthily from cuffs that tightened around his wrists. Harry tried not to stare, diverting his attention to the words carved upon the second set of doors they enter.
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 floor
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Harry's interest was instantly piqued, and he quickly followed Hagrid into the bank. A goblin met them, taking Harry's key to another goblin called Griphook, and Hagrid told them to also go to Vault 713 to pick up something for Dumbledore. Before he knew it, they were rushing down a steep, dark hill in what looked like a mine cart with no controls. Wind blowing his spiky hair up, he was certain it would be stuck like that for the rest of the day, and he eagerly looked around for the dangers that the riddle had warned him of, catching a glimpse of fire. Harry hoped it was a dragon, but Hagrid pulled him back into the cart before he could lean out more to see.
"Don' make me tie a rope to your waist," Hagrid looked sickly green as Harry turned to ask him a question. "It's best if I keep me mouth shut, Harry." Harry hurriedly shut his mouth and only stared at the vault they'd stopped at. Griphook put the key in the lock and opened it. The light of the nearby torches reflected off the stacks of gold, silver and bronze coin. They simply covered the floor from corner to corner and collected in simply massive heaps. Harry took a moment to stare, than quickly filled his bag with the gold change (Galleons), silver coins (Sickles), and a handful of bronze ones (Knuts). Vault 713 held no such treasure, all Harry could see was tiny, grubby little package Hagrid hurried swept up and stuffed it away in one of his many pockets. Another dizzying ride later, Harry was back above ground and wondering what to buy first.
"Migh' as well get yer uniform firs'," Hagrid nodded to a shop called Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Lis'en, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts…" Harry assured him he'd be fine, Hagrid only gave him a slightly amused/slightly uncertain look as Harry trotted easily up to the shop.
"Hogwarts dear?" a mauve-robed witch, squat and cheerful, smiled at him. He only nodded. "Got the lot here, another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." Harry saw a long trench coat in the corner that interested him and asked about it. "Ah, my favorite," she smiled fondly at it. "A form fitting mole-skin that'll grow along with its owner, very nice, do you like it, young man?" Harry smiled and nodded.
"Thank you," he slipped it on and it easily accommodated his rather lanky body.
"Oh it was made for you," Madame Malkin's eyes glittered. "Pun intended. Now, your proper robes, or suits, which do you prefer?"
"I like suits," Harry looked at the robes with a dismayed tone. "Robes are… rather, well, girlish, don't you think? And I like brown, brown's a nice colour.""
"Brown is definitely your colour," Madame Malkin smiled kindly. "I'll go get a few examples to show you..." Harry picked a pinstriped brown suit and a rust-red-striped blue suit, plus a half a dozen or so shirts of colors ranging from maroon to white to wear under them, as well as a black, red, and blue tie. Another boy with a pale, pointed face stood on a footstool, a witch magicking the clothes on him.
"Hello," the boy said. "Hogwarts too?"
"Yup," Harry popped the 'p'.
"My father's next door buying my books, and my mother's up the streets looking at the sonic wands," the boy drawled in a bored tone. "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." Harry didn't want to be rude but couldn't help but stare in disbelief at the boy. The way he said such things… had he no ethics at all? That'd he actually drag his parents somewhere or smuggle in a broom? Breaking rules and dishonoring his parents? Had he no shame at all about that?
"Have you got your own broom?" the other boy asked suddenly.
"No," Harry shook his head, careful of the needles.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"Ah, no," Harry wondered what on earth could Quidditch be.
"I do, Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree," You would, Harry thought to himself. "Know what house you'll be in yet?"
"No," Harry watched the needles and pins carefully.
"Well, no one really know until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slitheen. All our family have been, imagine being in Human, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"I dunno…" Harry really didn't care too much, but he did wish he knew more about Hogwarts so he could reply cleverly.
"I say, look at that man!" the boy sniggered at the character Hagrid made outside the window as he held two large, dripping ice creams.
"That's Hagrid," Harry was pleased to know something this boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh, I've heard of him," the boy dismissed. "He's the servant, right?"
"Gamekeeper, actually," Harry glanced at the boy with hidden annoyance.
"Yes, exactly, some sort of drunken savage that sets his bed alight when he tries to do magic…"
"I think he's brilliant," Harry straightened slightly, wishing the needles would prod this boy.
"Do you?" the boy laughed nasally. "Why is he with you? Where're you parents?"
"They're dead," Harry tried to come off casual but the mere mention of their death made him feel even colder to this boy, who obviously would never understand the feeling he had right now.
"Oh, sorry," the boy disregarded it completely, not even sounding apologetic. "But they were our kind, witch and wizard, right?"
"Yeah,"
"They shouldn't let in any others, I don't think, none but the pureblood families…"
"That's you done, dearie," Madame Malkin saved him from punching the boy in the face. He got off the stool gladly and left.
"See you at Hogwarts then," the boy drawled once more. Harry bit back a I hope not and exited the shop to eat the ice cream Hagrid had bought him and listened to Hagrid explain more about the wizarding world