It was a strange feeling that greeted me when I woke up early that morning, a feeling that maybe I was just dreaming that I was Harry Potter and that this wasn't real.
Hearing the tapping sound of the owl, I sat up. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and the owl was rapping his claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.
I scrambled to my feet, and went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.
"Hagrid, what do I do about this owl?" I asked as I watched the owl. It was important to keep up the pretense that I didn't know anything about this world.
"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.
"Pay him with what?" I asked, looking at him. "I don't have any money."
"Look in the pockets."
Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs teabags… finally, I pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.
"Knuts?"
"The little bronze ones."
I counted out five Knuts, and the owl held out his leg so I could put it into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.
"Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."
I was looking at the wizard coins. They were vary peculiar looking, with no two coins looking alike, aside from metal.
"Um, buy them with what?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. "I don't have any money, and unless you're giving handouts, I don't see how I'm going to pay for everything-"
"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"
"If they did, I don't know where it is- "
"First stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn' say no the ab bit o' yer birthday cake, either."
"So if they left something for me, you think it will be in that bank?" I asked. "What if they put it somewhere else?"
"There's just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."
"Goblins, really?" I asked curiously.
"Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe - 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – gettin' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see."
"Got everythin'? Come on, then."
I followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.
"How did you get here?" I asked, looking around.
"Flew," said Hagrid.
"Really?"
"Yeah – but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."
We settled down in the boat, and I was staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him on a broom.
"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, looking at me sideways. "if I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
"No, go ahead," I said, eager to see some magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and we sped off toward land.
We fell into a companionable silence while waiting, me just enjoying the ocean breeze while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. After a few minutes, the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and we clambered up the stone steps onto the street. I looked back at the boat, wondering for a moment how the Dursleys were going to get back if the boat was here, before deciding that it wasn't my problem.
Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked though the little town to the station. I 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?"
Eventually we 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 me so I could buy our tickets.
People stared even more on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.
I took the parchment envelope out of my pocket.
"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."
I unfolded the second piece of paper I had noticed the night before, and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
3. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
4. Three sets winter robes (black)
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 Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Draughts 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
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 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
"You can get all this in London?" I asked with a furrowed brow. "You'd think muggles would notice a shop that sold wands."
"If yeh know where to go" Hagrid replied. "Them muggles can't find it."
OO
I had never been to London before, in either of my lives. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was clearly not used to getting there in the normal way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as we climbed up a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
"They do somehow," I replied snarkily as I followed him.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all I had to do was keep close behind him. We walked down the busy street, and eventually we arrived to where Hagrid was leading me.
"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have noticed it. It must have had some sort of Muggle repelling charm on it, as none of the muggles around us looked at it once, even though we were standing in front of it.
Before I could think more on the subject, Hagrid steered me 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 looking like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when we 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 my shoulder and making my knees buckle, and my shoulder to ache. I spared a withering glare at Hagrid, but he didn't seem to notice. A gentle giant, he was not.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering down at me. "is this – can this be -?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. I was starting to feel self-conscious, and folded up my arms.
"Bless my soul,"whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter… what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward me, and seized my hand, tears in his eyes. I flinched, shocked at the sudden invasion of my personal space.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, Welcome back."
I stared at him, and I could feel everyone else in the room staring at me.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, people were starting to line up and I suddenly found myself 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 bore the annoying intrusion of my personal space with as much grace as I could, but I could feel myself getting more irritated with each hand I was forced to shake.
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 my hand. I had to repress a sneer. "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
The edge of my lips twitched as I asked in a curt tone, "What kind 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. Good act, too.
It took almost ten minutes to get away from the crowd of well wishers and hand shakers. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford got in one last handshake (I glared at her while she did it.), then Hagrid led me 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 me. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
"Yeah," I said sullenly. "I'm famous because my parents died and I lived. Whoopee."
Hagrid stood straighter, looking at me with a frown, as if he hadn't considered that before.
"Oh. Sorry, Harry. Didn't realize yeh wouldn't like that."
He turned back to the wall and began to count the bricks 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 touched quivered and wriggled. In the middle, the bricks began to shift, slowly forming an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway that led onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley." said Hagrid gruffly, having lost his good cheer.
We stepped though the archway and I found that the street wasn't quite as narrow as it had been in the movies. It opened up a bit.
For the next 14 minutes I followed Hagrid down the distinctly magical Diagon Ally. All of the shops looked interesting, and I looked at a few of them as we walked, but I was more interested in getting to the bank so I could get some money.
Eventually we 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 -
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as we walked up the white stone steps toward them. The goblin was a head shorter than me.
He had a swarthy, clever face, and pointed beard and very long fingers and feet. He bowed as we walked inside. Now we 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.
"Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed us through the silver doors and we 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 could leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.
Hagrid and I 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. I shrugged my shoulders awkwardly.
"Got it," said Hagrid eventually, 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 his stuff back inside his pockets, we followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall. We emerged into 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 towards up. We climbed in – Hagrid with some difficulty – and were off.
One whirlwind ride later, we arrived at my vault. 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, I gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," said a smiling Hagrid.
All mine… in both lives I had been poor. But now it was clear that I was rich. I knew for a fact that the Dursleys didn't know about this, if they had they would have taken it faster than blinking. And I knew, deep down, that if the blood enchantment wasn't a thing, I would have left the Dursleys then and there.
Hagrid helped me 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.
OO
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid after we emerged from the bank, blinking in the sunlight. "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 I entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling a bit relieved to be on my own, if only for a moment.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when I started to speak. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
In the back of the shop, Malfoy, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood me on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over my head, and began to pin it to the right length.
"Hello," said Malfoy, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," I replied.
"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," said Malfoy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "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."
I was strongly reminded of Dudley, but it was weird to have someone like Dudley speak so friendly to me.
"Have you got your own broom?" Malfoy went on.
"Not yet," I replied.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"Not yet," I said again.
"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in?"
"No idea," I replied. "But nobody really knows what house they'll go into before they get to school, right?"
"Yes, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"Perhaps" I replied thoughtfully.
"I say, look at that man!" Malfoy said suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at me and pointing at two large ice creams in his hand to show he couldn't come in.
"That is Hagrid," I stated. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," said Malfoy. "I've heard of him, He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"
"He's the gamekeeper," I said curtly.
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
"Hmmp. Don't believe everything you hear," I said in the same curt tone. "The man might not look like much, but he's smart and nice."
"Really?" said Malfoy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead" I said shortly.
"Oh, sorry," said Malfoy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
"I don't know, depends on what you call 'our' kind."
"I mean, they were a witch and wizard, right?" Malfoy said exasperatedly.
"Yes."
"Good, I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
But before I could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and I hopped down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said Malfoy.
I didn't speak of the boy after I left Madam Malkins, and I ate the ice cream in silence when Hagrid handed it to me. Eventually, we got up and started our shopping.
We bought my school books in Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones, bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all.
We also got my cauldron, scales, gloves, and telescope in a store called Magical Curiosities. Then we visited the Apothecary, which was interesting enough to make up for the bad smell. There Hagrid ordered some basic potion ingredients while I looked at some of the vials of premade potions.
Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked my list again.
"Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
"That's ok, you don't have to-" I quickly made to say.
"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, we left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. I now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid when I thanked him. "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… I had to admit that I was concerned that whether I would get the same wand as the original Harry, as having the twin wand could be very useful.
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 we stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a singly, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. I looked around, staring at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of my neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"Good afternoon,"said a soft voice. I jumped. Damn, he got me.
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 us, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," I said shortly. "You are Mr. Ollivander, correct?"
"Ah, yes," said Ollivander. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter. 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 tried to move closer to me, but I backed away. Those unblinking eyes of his were creeping me out. I focused on his nose so that I wouldn' t have to look in those staring, unblinking eyes. His nose looked like an upside down strawberry.
"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."
He kept creeping forward, trying to get close.
"And that's where… "
I dodged his finger when he tried to touch me.
"Mr. Ollivander, I find I must ask you to respect my private space," I said in a sharp tone through my teeth. What was it with people and touching me today?
Ollivander blinked, as if he hadn't expected me to resist his advances. "Oh, yes, of course, where are my manners? Mr. Ollivander, at your service."
He held out his hand, and I tentatively shook it.
"Well, as I was going to say, 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 my great 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. He gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid and piercing look. "Well, now – Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver marking out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"I'm right-handed," I replied.
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured me from shoulder to finger then wrist elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round my 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 the quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizards wand."
Having been listening closely to Ollivanders speech, I was surprised when I suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between my 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. Elm and phoenix feather, ten inches, nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
I took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of my hand almost at once.
"Maple and Dragon heartstring, 8 inches, quite firm, try – "
I tried – but I had barely raised the wand when it too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, no – here, Beech wood and phoenix feather, 13 and a half inches, slightly bendy."
I tried. And tried. I knew what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for, but try after try, it didn't happen. 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 – Acacia and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches, fairly stiff."
Wait, something was different. Wasn't this supposed to be a Holly wand? Never the less, the moment I held it in my hand, I knew this was the one. A sharp, cold feeling flushed though me, and when I swished the wand, a stream of white and silver sparks came out, 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 my wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious … curious …"
I felt a chill go down my back. "Excuse me, but… what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed me with a 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 it's brother – why, its brother gave you that scar."
I swallowed. This wand was was supposed to be Holly, but it was Acacia instead. Did that mean that Mr. Ollivander was a Seer of some kind? Did he somehow know which wizard the wand would chose before he even made it? I made a mental note to come back and find out when I came back to Diagon Alley.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."
I shivered. Ollivander was one creepy dude. I paid seven gold Galleons for my wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed us from his shop.
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hagrid and I made our way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. I didn't speak at all as we walked down the road; I barely even noticed how much people were gawking at us on the Underground, laden as we were with all our funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on my lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; I only woke up from my musings and realized where we were when Hagrid tapped me on the shoulder.
"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.
He bought us both burgers and we sat down on plastic seats to eat them. I stared around me. Everything seemed so unreal, for some reason.
"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.
I wasn't sure how to explain. Today had been the best birthday I'd had in a long time. Long before I was reborn, really… yet, I think I was just starting to wake up to the fact that this was real. Voldemort was coming, Voldemort was coming for me, and the thing he wanted most in this life was to brutally murder me.
How the hell do I explain something like that to Hagrid, when I shouldn't really know about it in the first place? It just seemed too surreal.
"It's just… after a lifetime of my so-called family treating me as worst than dirt," I said at last. "It's kind of hard to get used to people getting in my personal space, wanting to shake my hand, or telling me that I'm special. But the truth is, I'm just Harry. I don't know anything about magic, or about why I survived when my parents died. And yet everyone has all these huge expectations of me, expectations that I don't know how to deal with."
Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.
"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact. And if they get in yeh personal space, point me to them, and I'll take care of em' fer yeh."
I smiled. It was hard to be gloomy with such a cheerful companion.
Hagrid helped me on to the train that would take me back to the Dursleys, then handed me an envelope.
"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me… see yeh soon, Harry."
The train pulled out of the station, I wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; I rose in my seat and pressed my nose against the window, but I blinked and Hagrid had gone.
OO
When I arrived back at the Dursley's house, it was to find that they were already there, apparently having arrived a few hours earlier. After Aunt Petunia opened the door to let me in, she just walked away, pretending I didn't exist.
The Dursleys didn't seem to care that I took all my stuff up to my room, nor did they notice when I started to pull everything out of their packages, only to repack them again into my trunk, and they didn't mind when I didn't go down to help Petunia cook dinner, and neither did they try to make me do any chores.
Knowing what I knew about how they treated the original Harry when he came home from school, their attitude was frankly bizarre, but I wasn't going to complain.
The next morning, I woke up at five. Opening the window, I opened Hedwig's cage.
"Come find me in a few hours, alright?" I said to her when she hopped onto the bed. "I'll be in Diagon Alley."
She gave me an affectionate nip on the finger, before flying off though the window. Well, that part was done.
As quietly as I could, I brought my stuff down to the hall, before leaving it to leave a note I had scribbled the night before on the kitchen table
I've gone for the rest of the summer hols, see you in June. Don't worry about picking me up from King's Cross, I can get back on my own.
And after that, I walked out the door onto the street. The sun was just starting to rise. I held up my right hand.
BANG!
There appeared a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus It came skidding down the drive, before coming to a halt in front of me.
As I looked at it, a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the Bus, and began to speak loudly into the morning.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this morning."
He turned to look at me. "Oi, you a young un, what 'choo doin' out this early?"
"I believe I was calling for a bus," I said dryly.
"Woss that on your 'ead?" said Stan abruptly.
"Nothing," I said quickly, flattening my hair over my scar. I didn't want to have a repeat of yesterday. "May I get on?"
"Woss your name?" Stan persisted.
"Walter White," I said, saying the first thing that came to mind. "But never mind that, I need a ride to London, the Leaky Cauldron, if you please. How much would it cost?"
"Eleven Sickles," said Stan. "But for firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen, you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."
I dug into my pocket and pulled out some coins.
"Just the ride," I stated after counting out eleven Sickles and passing them to Stan. Stan helped me pull the trunk, with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus.
There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. An old witch in a nightcap near the middle of bus the rolled over in their sleep.
"You 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving my trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Walker White, Ern."
Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to me. I nervously flattened my bangs again and sat down on my bed.
"Take 'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's.
There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment I found myself flat on my bed, thrown backwards by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling myself up, I stared out of the dark window and saw that we were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching my stunned face with great enjoyment.
"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Cornwall?"
"Ar," said Ernie.
"Cool," I said, before lying back onto the bed. For the next while or so, I just lay on the bed, watching the scenery go by. When he realized that I wasn't going to ask any questions, Stan got out a copy of the Morning Prophet. When I spotted my name on it, I sat up.
"Hey, do you mind if I look at that real quick?" I asked, holding my hand out. Bemused, Stan passed it to me. There my name was, on a big blazoned headline:
HARRY POTTER SEEN IN LEAKY CAULDRON, SNEERS AT ADMIRERS
by Reeta Skeeter
I groaned, before tossing the paper back at Stan, knowing that it couldn't be anything good with that kind of headline and Reeta Skeeter writing it.
Stan sniggered, "Did you hear about Harry Potter? Acts all 'igh and mighty on his first day back, 'an now folks are wondering whether he's really our 'ero after all."
"I'm sure the paper is misconstruing things," I muttered.
I rolled over on my side, away from Stan, and didn't speak again until we arrived at my destination.
"This your stop," Stan patted my shoulder. I sat up and helped Stan move my stuff down to the street.
We were right in what looked like a back alley, and to my right I spotted a door with a sign that said The Leaky Cauldron over it.
I said goodbye to Stan and watched as the bus sped away, before turning to the door.
As it was still early, there were only a few people there. Pulling my trunk and Hedwig's cage behind me, I walked up to the bar, where Tom the Barman spotted me.
"Oh, Mr. Potter," he said in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
"That's alright," I said. "I'm going to need a room for the next month, until September 1st. How much?"
"For a month? That will be 35 Galleons," He replied. "And let me just say, I'm sorry for my behavior yesterday. I didn't mean to surprise you like that."
"Don't worry about it," I said, handing him the money.
Tom led me up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number twelve on it, with Tom unlocked and opened for me.
Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe was Hedwig, who click her beak and fluttered out of the window once she saw that I had arrived.
"Thank you," I said to Tom, who gave a bow, and left.
I put my trunk and Hedwig's cage in a corner, before heading to the bed, as I was still tired. After taking off my glasses, I slumped down onto the pillows, and fell asleep.
OO
I woke up a few hours later, to sunshine on my face. It was ten o'clock. I sat up and stretched, working out the cricks in my neck and spine. Yesterday had been exhausting. I got up and walked down to the pub, where Tom the barman had started to serve some more guests.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," said Tom when he spotted me. "What can I do for you today?"
"Could I get a table and some food, please?" I asked. "haven't had anything to eat since yesterday."
"Of course, right this way," he replied. He led me to one of the darker corners of the pub. "And what would you like for lunch?"
"Just some soup and bread will be fine," I said before waving him away.
When it arrived I ate my soup and bread in silence, and when I was done, I got up and left six Sickles on the table for payment.
I walked out to the courtyard, tapped the brick that opened the archway with my new wand, and stepped into Diagon Alley. As I had used up the rest of my money to pay for the room, I had to go and get some more, so my first stop was to be Gringotts.
Now that I didn't have to follow Hagrid around, I took my time walking down the alley. It really was an amazing place. The street was clean, the people were colorful, and there were all sorts of funny sights, sounds, and smells.
Gringotts looked exactly the same as it did yesterday, so I walked up to a free goblin on one of the stalls.
"Hello, I am Mr. Harry Potter and I need to make a withdrawal," I said to the goblin.
"Do you have your key, sir?" The goblin asked me, lending a critical eye at my hand me downs.
I pulled it from my pocket and held it up, and the goblin looked at it closely.
"Very well, I'll have someone take you down to your vault," the goblin said. "Gobshot!"
The trip down to my vault didn't take very long, and when Gobshot opened it, I waited for the green smoke to billow out, before quickly walking in and dumping as much gold as I could fit into my money bag.
"I was wondering, where do I go to get a statement of my vault?" I asked Gobshot when I walked out.
Gobshot sneered. "At a stall, like everyone else."
"Thank you," I replied as I got back into the cart.
OO
Apparently, I wasn't filthy rich, but I wasn't doing too bad either. My parents had left me around 400K Galleons, which if converted into pounds would make me a millionaire. However, my accounts didn't have any investments, and Gringotts didn't do savings accounts either, because they didn't do loans.
I had decided to hold off on opening an investment account for now, as I felt I had more than enough money to live comfortably for the next 7 years.
After leaving Gringotts, my first stop was at the trunk store, where I traded in my current trunk for a new, better one. My new trunk had three compartments; one for books, one for potions ingredients, and one for my other stuff.
My next stop was at Magical Curiosities (which was a kind of wizarding general store, like Walmart in America), where I got a wand holster and belt, a wand polish kit, a mokeskin pouch with an undetectable extension charm and feather light charm on it (which I stuffed all my money into), and a book bag that also had an undetectable extension charm and feather light charm on it.
After that I went to Flourish and Blotts to get all of the books that Hagrid wouldn't let me get the first time around. I got the third and second year textbooks, a few more books on magical theory, some history books, a bunch of books on curses (including Curses and Counter-Curses) a few extra potions books, and books on arithmancy, ancient runes, and spell creation.
Following that, I went to Madam Malkin's to get a set of robes for day wear.
Once I was done, I lugged all this back to my room in the Leaky Cauldron, and organized it into my new trunk.
"It's been a long day, Hedwig," I said as I collapsed onto my bed when I was done. Hedwig didn't respond, she was fast asleep.
OO
2 weeks later
it was the sound of mail hitting the end of my bed that woke me up. I sat up and yawned, while stretching. Getting up out of bed, I picked up the bundle of mail, which had apparently been dropped there Hedwig, who was my go between with the post office. I had purchased a box there two days after moving to the Leaky Cauldron, cause I didn't want people being too familiar with my owl, as she was rather distinctive.
Hedwig hooted at me angrily from her spot on top of the wardrobe.
"I know you don't like it, Hedwig," I replied. "and I'm sorry, but I need some level of anonymity. You're too recognizable."
Hedwig turned her back on me, and I sighed. "Oh come on, don't be like that."
I picked up a bag of owl treats from the side table, and tossed a few up to the wardrobe, before picking up the bundle of mail and sitting down at my desk. There was already a plate of food and a cup of water sitting there, so I read my mail over breakfast.
Over the past two weeks, I had been making inquiries into the state of my estate, as well as Sirius's status. Apparently, Gringotts didn't handle estate matters, the ministry did. I had managed to get a copy of my parents will, and while they had made provisions for caregivers, most of them were dead or indisposed. That being the case, the Ministry had decided to place me with my closest blood relatives, and Dumbledore had delivered me there.
After the Potter's deaths, the Potter Estate had been liquidated and the funds placed in the Potter vault, with only a few items remaining unliquidated, also placed in the vault.
Regarding the indisposed caregivers, apart from Sirius, there had been two, a Mary Macdonald was being treated for Curse Wounds at St. Mungos to this day, and a Remus Lupin who was a werewolf, and so it was against the law for him to be a caregiver. Sirius, of course, was in Azkaban.
Regarding Sirius, I had made a formal request for a transcript of his trial, but thus far the Ministry had failed to produce one. I wasn't too surprised in that regard, seeing as I knew he hadn't had one. My plan right now was to make three formal requests, then hire a Solicitor to investigate the case.
In case you're wondering, I wasn't interested in obtaining Sirius as a parent, but just wanted to get an innocent man out of jail. I still needed the blood protection living with the Dursleys provided, but I couldn't rest easy knowing an innocent man was being tortured by dementors for no reason.
I had also been making inquiries into the Horcruxes, but for the moment most of them were out of my reach, I had looked at the laws regarding the status of dark artifacts contained in the vaults of Gringotts, but as part of the Treaty between the Goblin Nation and the Ministry of Magic, the Ministry couldn't force the Goblin Nation to give up Artifacts contained with the Vaults of Gringotts, whether they were Dark or otherwise.
That was unfortunate, cause it meant that I was going to have to break into Gringotts at some point if I wanted to get that Horcrux.
I had managed to locate Little Hangleton on the map, as well as the probable location of the Cave, but the Cave was going to take some searching, I had also located Grimmauld Place, but the house had been sealed upon the death of Walburga Black. The Diary was out of my reach at the moment, but I just had to wait a year or so before it turned up. I wasn't sure if the snake had been made a Horcrux yet, and I wouldn't have any idea of where to start looking, even if it had, so I put that one out of my mind.
As for the one in my scar… If I couldn't find a way to remove it, I was just going to have to invent one. After all, there was no way in hell I was going to wait until Voldemort killed me.
I sighed as I finished reading my mail, my third request for a transcript of Sirius trial hadn't been answered like the first two, but I had managed to get a signed and notarized transcript of Millicent Bagnold's decree to place me with the Dursleys. Apparently the Child Protection Department decided to involve the higher ups on that one, or they were forced to.
Finishing my breakfast, I packed away my mail into my trunk, and got dressed for the day.
OO
A week later.
It was raining on that late afternoon on a Thursday, and I had just been kicked out of the office of Dodge E. & Dodge E. R.. Getting up off my rump, I gave a hard glare at the office building, before setting off down Horizon Alley back towards Gringotts.
Despite my best efforts over the past two days after I hadn't been able to hire a solicitor, due to Ministry laws requiring a minor be represented either by their guardians or the ministry itself as a ward. So technically, my guardians could hire a solicitor to investigate the issue on my behalf, but I couldn't.
Even some of the dodgier solicitor groups had laughed me out of their office once they realize a child had requested an appointment.
So now I was left with either the option of finding some intermediary to investigate the issue on my behalf, or wait until I was 17 to hire a solicitor.
I groaned internally. Why did this have to be so hard?
At least one thing had gone right. A witch who worked as a clerk in the filing department of the ministry had contacting me privately because she was 'such a fan'(her words not mine). Apparently she had gone looking for the transcript, but hadn't found it, because it didn't exist.
The witch had requested to keep her anonymity, so she couldn't serve as a witness, but at least I had a bit of testimony.
I was reluctant to contact any Ministry Officials, though, because they might ask too many questions I wasn't interested in answering.