A/N: Here is Chapter 4! This story is officially caught up to where it is on ao3. I hope you enjoy!

McGonagall came to collect him shortly after. She did something with her wand that caused a purple light to appear, before the beam vanished somewhere next to him.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"A shrinking charm," McGonagall told him. "To make it easier to carry your purchases."

Harry nodded. He was thankful that McGonagall was so patient with all his questions.

"Do all spells have different colors?" he asked, curious.

"You can see color?" McGonagall responded. It seemed as though she didn't know what to make of him. Maybe he was teaching her too, Harry thought.

"Not usually. I only vaguely remembered what colors looked like before. But when I held your wand, I could see all the colors of the sparks. It was weird. Like… Like all of the names of the colors rushing out all at once. Sort of like when you remember someone's name after it's been on the tip of your tongue for a while. It was nice," Harry said fondly. He blushed slightly. "Anyway, I think it's just when it's magic. Like a spell or something."

"Very interesting Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. "Come it is time to get your own wand."

At this Harry let go of Professor McGonagall's arm, rushing forward with Seymour until he remembered that he didn't actually know where he was going and that he wasn't supposed to let go of his guide or run-off. He waited until he felt McGonagall's presence next to him.

"Sorry. Got excited." Harry said. He raised his arm and let McGonagall resume her guidance.

"I would be concerned if you weren't excited, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, and Harry could hear the smile in her voice. She led him to the wand shop.

As they entered the door Harry froze. The shop was humming. He could feel the vibrations around him, sounding almost like the whirring of machines. Instinctively, he knew where everything was in the room. He felt tears well up in his eyes. It was almost overwhelming. He walked over to what he thought might be the counter, reaching out and touching it. The wood was practically singing with magic. Suddenly Harry was six years old again, sitting at the piano with an old teacher, fascinated by the sounds all the keys made. Low dissonant notes, high bell-like tinkling. The shop, the whole world around him, was playing him a symphony.

"I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Mr. Potter," a voice said. Harry jumped, looking up where the voice came from. "You look just like your father. Except for your eyes. You have your mother's eyes."

Harry wanted to say something sarcastic, but there was a lump in his throat. There was something about this man with the soft voice and the singing shop.

"I remember selling them their wands like it was yesterday," the man continued in his soft silky voice. "So much talent…"

"Who are you?" Harry asked softly.

"I am Mr. Ollivander," the man said. "Now, which is your wand arm?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't know," Harry said. "I mean I'm pretty ambidextrous I think."

"Give me your right, then," Ollivander said, and Harry held it out. There were a few brief moments where all Harry could hear was the buzzing of what he assumed was a tape measure flying about him. The world buzzed around him. Harry had never heard a place sound so alive.

"Well, let's see then," Ollivander said, although Harry could barely hear him over the din of the magic surrounding him. He felt Ollivander press a wand into his hand. He waved it, only to catch a dim light shoot from the end, and then the sound of something falling and breaking.

"Oops," Harry said, guiltily. "I hope that wasn't anything valuable."

"Nonsense my boy, not your fault. Just need to find the right wand…" Ollivander's voice trailed off. Harry got the impression that Ollivander was talking to himself rather than to him. The wandmaker snatched the wand from him and replaced it with another. Harry gave the new wand a wave.

This one didn't so much as give off a light, or at least if it did, it was one too dim for Harry to see. The only indication Harry had that the wand had worked was the low humming sound, and what sounded like hundreds of boxes shooting off a shelf and crashing to the floor. Harry winced.

"Oh dear…" Ollivander said. Harry couldn't see the damage, but he was certain that Ollivander's words had to be the understatement of the century. He saw a light come from Ollivander's wand, and the shelves seemed to right themselves.

"I wonder…" Ollivander said, wandering off. He returned with yet another wand. "Holly and phoenix feather. 11 inches." Harry gripped this wand firmly and was pleasantly surprised to see bright silver and gold sparks shooting out of his wand. The air around him hummed louder now. Everything felt electrified and static like if he reached out and touched anything, it would shock him. He grinned widely.

"This one," he said decidedly. "It's this one. Brilliant."

"Curious… Very curious…" Ollivander said. Harry's breath caught in his throat. Could Ollivander hear it too?

"Do… Do they sing for you too?" Harry asked, cautiously.

There was a brief tense moment in the room. All of the air stood still as if the magic was waiting for the answer.

"You can hear the magic, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander asked, shocked. Harry just nodded wordlessly. "That is a very rare talent," Ollivander continued. "It's been a long time since I've met anyone who could do such a thing."

He could feel Ollivander's hands close to his eyes, the shadow of his fingers creating a slight shadow. "Though I suppose… With your… unique circumstances, I shouldn't be surprised. Yes… I suspect you'll go onto great things. As for the rest… well, I'm sure when the time comes you'll be able to hear it."

Harry nodded solemnly. Ollivander squeezed Harry's hand for a moment, the two of them both clutching the wand. It lasted just a second before Ollivander stepped back and the tension in the room disappeared. Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Harry paid for his wand and let Ollivander box it up. Or rather, that had been the plan. He paid for his wand and placed it on the counter for Ollivander to box up. But as soon as the wood left his fingertips, the sound in the room dimmed. Harry snatched back up quickly, clutching it to his chest. Being able to hear the magic around him wasn't the same as having sight, but it allowed him a sense of peace and freedom that he hadn't had before. For a moment he imagined a world where it could just be him and Seymour. A world where he could go where he pleased without relying on a sighted guide. He couldn't give up that world now that he had it.

"Is there a way I could keep it with me?" He asked Ollivander. "Like put it in my pocket or something?"

Ollivander moved away from him for a moment, and Harry heard him rustling through the back. He came back and gently took Harry's left arm.

"This is a wand holster," Ollivander explained, carefully attaching something leather to Harry's forearm. "It will let you keep your wand on you at all times. A bit unusual for someone your age, but, under the circumstances, understandable."

"How much?" Harry asked. Ollivander gave him a price, and Harry didn't hesitate to put 11 Galleons on the counter. It was a lot, he reckoned, but worth it.

He stepped out of the shop, feeling lighter somehow. The air felt crisper, sharper somehow. He could hear the magic sing through it, like music they were playing just for him. He pressed his arm to his chest, feeling the pressure of the wand on his skin. There was a distinct feeling that something was different.

Harry grinned, carding his other hand through Seymour's hair. There was a new world waiting for him. He was ready to seize it.