Five years had passed since Harry had lost his sight. Five years since he had discovered magic. And five years since the Dursleys began to tolerate his existence. That meant that they just completely ignored his existence outside meal times, not that it changed much.

Harry had gotten used to his lack of sight and would have been able to get through his life unbothered with or without his magic. As for magic, he had experimented with how much magic could do, and had pretty good control of it, though he still had questions. Harry never really interacted with other kids his age, but he didn't really mind.

It was the week before his eleventh birthday, and he wanted to frequent the library as much as possible during the week as some form of celebration. The librarian, Mrs. Wright, had grown quite fond of him and had helped him in finding more books in braille. Harry considered the elderly woman as his grandma and had spent most of his birthdays with her.

Harry greeted Mrs. Wright and navigated his way to the braille section. The section was small, but there were a variety of books, so he was happy with it. Picking out a random book, Harry immersed himself in the book.

There was a tap on his shoulder. He looked in the general direction of where the tap came from. It was Mrs. Wright.

"You best be going home now, dear, it's nearly half six," the elderly lady said and ambled back to the reception desk.

Harry checked out a workbook on mathematics, thanking Mrs. Wright for letting him know the time. He could have checked the time himself with his magic, but he was too lost in the book to keep track of it. He left the library and headed to Privet Drive, content with his day.

Harry checked the mail, not really expecting to find anything. It was just part of his routine to check the mail when he got back. He was surprised to find that there was a single envelope sitting in the mailbox. He was surprised when he found that the address was written in braille, and was addressed to him.

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging

Surrey.

Who would be writing to him? There was no one he knew of that would want to. Harry went inside and quickly went to his cupboard. He examined the envelope. Harry could feel traces of magic emitting from the letter, but he didn't feel anything malicious from it. Harry carefully opened it and began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. 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 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry raised an eyebrow. The letter seemed legitimate, and its contents explained the trace of magic on it. Everything made more sense with this letter, really. He looked at the list of required books and equipment and frowned. Where was he supposed to buy all these? He supposed that he would have to ask Aunt Petunia since it seemed like she would know something about this. It also appeared that he would have to write a letter to them, something else to ask his aunt.

Harry was intrigued. So there were others who could do what he did, and it seemed like wands were used to support the manipulation of magic. And owls were used as a form of communication. Based on the course books, there seemed to be interesting subjects, too. He had a week to reply to the letter, and a month after that to prepare for the school term. He checked the time. He had just enough time to eat and take a shower before he had to go to bed. His questions would just have to wait until tomorrow.

-Inconspicuous-

The next morning, Harry found Aunt Petunia having tea while watching TV. Uncle Vernon had left for work and Dudley was hanging out with Piers.

"Hey, Aunt Petunia? Do you know about Hogwarts?" Harry sat down at the table and stared at her, face blank.

Petunia's face paled and Harry could feel her jumbled emotions. Hate, fear, pain, jealousy, sadness, anger. He pushed a copy of the letter from Hogwarts towards her, which he had magically translated to English (he had learned the trick when he was frustrated about not finding the book he wanted in braille). Before his aunt could say anything, Harry spoke up.

"Because I'd like to go. It wouldn't do if I just had random bouts of accidental magic with no way to control them, right? I could accidentally hurt you, Uncle Vernon, or Dudley. I don't want to do that, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual."

"Now listen here, boy-" Aunt Petunia began to say, before blanching when the implications of his words registered.

"I'll take you where you need to go to buy your school things, but that's the most I will do. You can send a letter to accept your enrollment there. You can do everything else yourself. We'll go to London tomorrow."

Harry nodded, internally cheering. He was excited to learn about all the new types of magic that he might have missed. He definitely wanted to study up on potions and herbology. He wondered if it was like chemistry, or if it used magical plants. And what were the properties of magical plants? What kinds of different medicinal properties do they have? Harry walked to the library full of these questions.

-Inconspicuous-

The ride to London was quiet. He could feel his aunt glance at him occasionally as if she was waiting for him to blow up at any moment. He guessed that her fear of magic had something to do with his parents. He knew nothing of them, but he didn't believe that they died in a car accident. Something in his gut said that it was a lie, and the recurring dream with the bright green light could be a hint of their cause of death. He was assuming that they, too, were wizards. His aunt and uncle didn't speak of them like they never existed, but then again they act like he doesn't exist either so it would make sense for them to not mention them. Harry was pulled out of his thoughts when his aunt parked. He followed his aunt until they reached a small pub in between a big bookshop and a record shop.

There was a lot of chatter in the pub, and it was small enough that his magic could effortlessly reach from one end to the other. His aunt approached the old bartender.

"We need to get to Diagon Alley," his aunt said to the bartender rigidly.

"Ah, yes, muggleborn? Hogwarts letters just got sent out, didn't they?" The bartender got up and smiled, trying to make small talk. Aunt Petunia only made a curt nod. He walked up to a wall and tapped three times. The wall transformed into an archway. Harry looked at the wall, amazed at the amount of magic emitting from it. It was a shame that he couldn't actually see the transformation itself, it must've been amazing. He thanked the bartender as he followed his aunt through the archway.

The amount of magic everywhere nearly overwhelmed Harry. He was at a loss for words. The only magic he'd ever been exposed to was his own and the trace of magic from the letter. There was a multitude of different kinds of magical signatures. From the buildings, from the people, from the objects, even from the air. He didn't realize he'd stopped until his aunt pulled him.

"Hurry up. We need to get your money."

Money? He had money? Harry followed his aunt, dumbfounded. They stopped at a large building that overwhelmed the other little shops. Standing next to its doors was a.. person? Maybe a goblin? He wasn't sure. He bowed to the guard as they passed the doors. There was a second pair of doors. He could feel words engraved on them. It was basically a threat that any attempted robberies would be punished. He winced as he imagined what kinds of punishments befell those who were idiotic enough to try. Beyond those doors were a hundred or so more goblins. A pair of goblins bowed them and he bowed back, not trying to be discourteous. Aunt Petunia led him to a free counter.

"We're here to take money from Harry Potter's safe. I'm his aunt, but I don't have his key." The goblin looked at Harry and his aunt and nodded.

"We will have to do a blood test to confirm his identity, and then you'll receive a copy of the key."

The goblin called for another goblin, Griphook, to take care of the blood test. Griphook led them into a room. Harry sat down after being told to do so and a bowl was placed on the desk in front of him.

"I will prick your finger so that some of your blood drops into the bowl. The bowl will state your identity and, if you are who you say you are, you will be given a copy of the key to your vault," the goblin explained. After his identity was confirmed, Griphook inquired about the key. "Would you like to make the other copies of the key invalid?"

"Yes, please do. We were not aware that other people have access to his safe," his aunt replied. Harry wondered who had previously had access to his vault. Not that it mattered anymore since they wouldn't be able to use their copy of the key anymore.

Griphook led them out the room and toward a door leading off the hall. They were in a narrow passageway with little railway tracks. The room was lit with torches. Huh, that's interesting. Griphook summoned a small cart, which had appeared to be self-operating. They climbed in and the cart sped through twisting passages and plunged deep into the underground. Harry let out a laugh, surprised by the sudden wind. It was like a rollercoaster. He didn't know how long the ride took, but by the time the cart had stopped he could feel his aunt feeling sick. He slowly inched away from her when they got off, just in case.

Griphook unlocked the door to his vault and Harry blinked. Not like the blinking really did anything. He was blind. But he was so surprised by the amount of money he could feel that he just had to. There were piles and piles of coins.

"The largest coins are Galleons, seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Galleons have six bumps, Sickles have four, Knuts have two," Griphook explained.

Harry was in a daze as he put some of the coins into a bag- he was told that it could be wired to his account so that he could extract the exact amount of money he would need without the hassle of carrying it all the time for a small fee and had agreed to it. He wondered what the exchange rate to pounds was. He asked Griphook how many pounds were to a Galleon and if it was possible for him to exchange some of his money to pounds with his bag. He was told that the bag could function that way, but a fee would be charged.

Harry and Aunt Petunia thanked the goblin and left Gringotts, Harry still flustered from having an absurd amount of money. Harry looked at his aunt, curious as to why she didn't take any of his money if she knew about it.

"I want nothing to do with your kind, not even money," his aunt said abruptly as if reading his mind. Petunia said that she would be waiting back at the pub, feeling unwell from the cart ride. That was fine, he could probably navigate his way around by himself.

Harry searched around, and found a shop with a sign that said "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions." He assumed that that was a place he could get his school uniform. Harry entered the shop nervously. Madam Malkin ushered Harry to the back of the shop and told him to stand on a footstool next to another boy his age. The boy greeted him and spoke in a bored voice. Harry frowned, the boy reminded him of Dudley and sounded like a spoiled child. The boy talked about racing brooms- huh, guess wizards really do fly on brooms.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy asked, and Harry nearly lets out a laugh.

"No, I'm blind, I can't fly," Harry said, amused. The boy blinked.

"What? Can't you just get that fixed? Blind wizards are practically unheard of."

"No, the damage is too extensive, and it'd be too late to fix it now anyway," Harry could feel the other boy's brief curiosity.

"Huh. That's kind of weird. Anyways, you know what house you'll be in yet? I know I'll be in Slytherin, everyone in my family's been..." the boy continued talking.

Madam Malkin finished Harry's measurements, and he thanked her as he made his purchase and left. Harry found a shop for trunks next. He was grateful to magic for existing when he found a trunk that had a compartment that could be used for a library, another one for a kitchen, and two that were basically empty storage rooms. And the trunk couldn't be opened by anyone but him, it had been locked by his blood and would check for magical signature, and it was charmed to be weightless. How cool was that? A single trunk could hold so much! But the most important was definitely the library. It had cost him twenty Galleons, but it was worth it. He had also bought a bottomless and weightless backpack for when he needed to go somewhere, aka the library. That, too, had been altered to only let Harry open it. Though the Dursleys ignore his existence, he didn't trust that they would leave his things alone.

Harry bought the rest of his school supplies, leaving the books and wand for last. He had bought extra potion ingredients outside the basic ones at the Apothecary and had asked the man behind the counter preservation methods for them.

When he got to the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, he practically had a field day. There were so many different books on different types of magic. He wanted to buy them all, even though he knew that he shouldn't. He picked up his school books and bought several books that elaborated on each of his school subjects and others that interested him, such as Arithmancy and ancient runes. He had also found some books on wizard traditions, history, and etiquette. He had asked the shopkeeper if it was possible to translate the books to braille, and was happy to pay the small fee for it. He could have done it himself, but he didn't want to risk accidentally mistranslating the book. Though he could read normal books, it just made his life easier to just read in braille. He had enough books to last him the two months he had before the term started.

He asked for directions and managed to find his way around to Ollivanders to buy his wand. He was curious about it. It seemed like wizards were dependent on wands to cast their magic. It seemed like he would have to hide his wandless magic abilities- wouldn't want to attract unnecessary attention.

The shop was tiny and empty. But the air was full of magic, and he could feel the personalities of the different types of wands. He supposed that wands were sort of their own sentient being and that a wizard had to be compatible with their wand in order to cast magic to their full abilities. He felt someone and turned to face in the general direction.

"Good afternoon," Harry greeted the man.

"Good afternoon to you too, Harry Potter. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. You have your mother's eyes, I'm sorry for your loss." Harry was unsure of whether he was talking about his loss of sight or his parents. The man spoke of his parents and the wands they had. Harry could feel that this man was a powerful wizard, magic itself stained his hands. Mr. Ollivander reached to touch Harry's forehead, but he moved out of the way.

This seemed to remind the man why Harry was here. He pulled out a long tape measure and began to take his measurements. Mr. Ollivander began taking down boxes and instructed Harry to take a wand and wave it. He didn't feel a connection at all. Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand out of his hand and gave him a different one. This cycle repeated until the pile of tried wands was considerably large.

"I wonder.. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand and felt a sudden warmth. Sparks shot from the end of the wand when he swished it down. Mr. Ollivander put the wand back into its box and wrapped it, muttering under his breath. "Curious, curious.." Harry's interest was piqued.

"Excuse me, but what is curious?" Mr. Ollivander looked up from the box and stared at Harry.

"I remember every wand I've sold, Mr. Potter. The phoenix whose feather is in your wand gave another- It just so happens to be that its brother is the one that gave you that scar." Harry snapped his hand up to feel the jagged scar on his forehead. He never really thought about it, but it made sense that the scar was caused by something magic since he could feel traces of a magical signature that wasn't his own. He had forced the magic out a while ago, however, since he had felt its malicious intent. He frowned.

"Does that mean someone cursed me? Why would someone want to do that?" Mr. Ollivander sat down.

"Mr. Potter... You don't know? Your story?" Harry shook his head and Mr. Ollivander continued to speak. "Your parents, James and Lily Potter, were exceptional wizards, yes… It was a dark time, and a man who reigned during those dark ages killed them. Many fear his name, and simply refer to him as You-Know-Who… It was said that he attempted to murder you, but failed and disappeared. The people revere you in this world, Mr. Potter. You are known by all…" Mr. Ollivander trailed off and handed the boxed wand to Harry. "Here you go, Mr. Potter." Harry was caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. He got up before he realized something.

"Actually, is there anything I can hold the wand with safely without having to worry about accidentally snapping it in two? You know, like a holster?"

Mr. Ollivander seemed surprised, he guessed that not many students ask about that kind of stuff.

"Of course, of course. There are arm holsters, leg holsters, belt holsters.. Take your pick."

Harry decided to get a belt holster. It seemed to be the most convenient. Harry paid seven galleons for his wand and six for his wand holster. Thanking Mr. Ollivander, Harry left the shop with a lot on his mind. He made his way to the Leaky Cauldron.

-Inconspicuous-

For the rest of the week, Harry spent his time in the library as planned, but studied magic instead. If he needed to practice something, he would just write down a note to practice it. He practically lived in his trunk at this point. He would spend his time studying in his mini library, cook something in his kitchen, and experimented with magic. The Dursleys rarely saw him, not that they cared. He bought his own groceries and cooked for himself. He had also bought some new clothes for himself, and he had definitely needed it.

Harry had bought a pack of cheap ballpoint pens and several notepads for taking notes during class. He probably would need to write in Kobigraphs for those rather than use slates, he wouldn't have enough time. He wondered why wizards still used parchment paper and quills, he shook his head, so old school. He would have to ask one of the teachers to use a translation spell to translate his essays to English. He doesn't want his teachers just accusing him of cheating because he can't actually write in English, and he doesn't want anyone to realize that he already knows some 'advanced' magic.

He was sitting in his usual spot at the library when Mrs. Wright had called for him. He checked the time. It was half-past five. The elderly lady was holding on to a small box.

"Happy birthday dearie, I baked you a cake"

Harry hugged the librarian, he never quite getting used to being given something for his birthday. At least he didn't cry though, he did the first time she got him a birthday gift.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wright. I'm sure it's going to be the best cake I've ever had." Harry could feel the elderly lady smile. Then, he remembered that he was going to Hogwarts in two months. "Oh right. I'm going to go to a boarding school in Scotland, so I won't be able to visit you as much anymore, sorry. I'll try during the summer, though." He smiled sadly. He really was going to miss the librarian.

"That's alright, dear, I won't be going anywhere so you don't have to worry about having to visit me all the time," Mrs. Wright smiled. "Now sit down and eat your cake, this is the only day I'll allow it." He couldn't see it, but he could imagine her eyes twinkling and laughed. He felt warm. Was this what it was like to have family? That cake really was the best cake he'd ever had.

AN: Harry indulges in shopping bc he deserves it. Late chapter, hope you enjoyed- also if ffnet messes up this chapter I'm gonna throw hands smh