Chapter 7 A Home for a While

Harry had not known what to expect when he and Professor Snape landed with a thud in the middle of a clearing. As usual, Harry could barely stand as a result of Apparition and felt like he would lose his breakfast. As usual, Professor Snape was standing there as if nothing had happened, the breeze gently blowing his black cloak around him and making him look to Harry's eyes like either a superhero or the villain out of a comic book.

"Come," was all he said.

Following, Harry noticed for the first time that there was a house ahead of them. It was the strangest looking house he had ever seen. It looked like it had started off with one room, and then others had been added on, left and right and up, over the years. The additions were not even painted all the same. It was also actually leaning, Harry was sure. It was definitely the coolest building Harry had ever seen, despite its shabby appearance and the fact that he had just left an actual castle. There was something about this place that drew him in.

They were accosted by chickens and something that looked like a dirty potato on legs as they neared the building. It chittered away at Harry, and he thought it might have actually been swearing at him. He knew that the professor did not like him to gape at things, so he tried to ignore the foul-mouthed potato and the chickens, but it was hard not to notice that there were people on broomsticks flying around.

"Professor, is that …" Harry began to speak, but he was cut off by the door to the strange house opening.

"Severus! We were expecting you to take the Floo."

A portly woman with curly red hair and a smiling round face dressed in a frilly apron and a worn dress that Harry's Aunt Petunia would never have approved of stepped out onto the porch. "Well, never mind," she continued, not allowing Professor Snape to answer, "you're just in time for lunch anyway. Let me gather the crowd."

"That's all right," Snape began, but he was cut off as the woman entered the house, leaving the door open.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the professor at the woman's antics. He noted that the ordinarily unflappable man seemed a bit put out. For some reason, Harry found this amusing and tried to hide his smile. He was sure he was unsuccessful, as Professor Snape gave him a curt nod and gestured him into the house.

The inside of the house was just as wonderfully haphazard as the outside. Harry could see evidence of everyday magic everywhere, from the dishes washing themselves in the sink to a clock that had tiny images of family members instead of hands. He wanted to look everywhere at once, but he was aware of Professor Snape watching him. Instead, he just walked as politely as he could until he entered a room with a large, well-worn table. He was greeted with a screech and the blur of someone rushing up the stairs.

"Oh, never mind that," a boy who looked to be a couple of years older than Harry and had the same flaming her hair as his mother entered through the back door, nodding to the staircase. "That's just Ginny."

"She's shy," the boy's carbon copy completed the thought, following a half-step behind him.

"Mental is what she is," a third boy, probably younger, assured Harry.

Harry was quickly surrounded by these and a few more people who all seemed to be talking at once. The twins finished each other's sentences and teased their younger brother; their mother chided them to sit down and eat. The older boys seemed content to mostly ignore the younger ones. Since Professor Snape had told Harry nothing about what was going on, he could not help but be a little overwhelmed by this scene. He decided to take his cue from Snape, standing next to a large fireplace with his arms crossed and glowering.

"Come now, Severus, you must eat with us," the mother implored, "and you must be Harry. I'm sorry, Dear. It can get quite mad here sometimes. We are very pleased to meet you. This is Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, and Bill. I'm Molly Weasley. I will have to track down Ginny, I'm afraid. She's probably hiding under the bed."

With a quick glance at Professor Snape, Harry greeted her as politely as he could, given that he was sure he would remember no one's name except for the females. "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am. I'm Harry Potter."

"Well, of course, you are!" Molly Weasley agreed. "Have a seat, Dear."

With a nod from the professor, Harry did as he was told. He was seated between the youngest boy, who he thought was named Ron, and one of the twins. Harry had no idea which one. He looked pleadingly at Snape, hoping the man wasn't about to leave him here.

Professor Snape looked at the table full of children and then at Mrs. Weasley, and then at Harry. He gave Harry a stern look that he couldn't quite interpret, but that likely meant that he was about to be abandoned to this group of boisterous strangers.

"I must be off, Mrs. Weasley," Professor Snape told her stiffly.

As if his legs were acting on their own accord, Harry jumped up from his bench. "Professor, may I speak to you privately for a moment, please?"

He was sure that Snape was going to deny his request. There was a fleeting expression that passed Snape's face. Harry thought it was almost pained. It was unreadable, and that made Harry nervous. He pressed on, though, moving past Snape to the front porch. That would deny Snape the opportunity to refuse him. Sure enough, the professor followed him.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape's voice was cold.

Almost losing his nerve, Harry looked at his feet. The sight of the new shoes and robes that Snape had outfitted him bolstered his resolve. Somewhere deep down, he meant something to this man. Harry might be nothing more than an obligation or a responsibility, but that was something he was used to. It was all he had ever been to any adults he knew. It was something he could work with.

"Professor, when will I see you again?"

Harry hated how needy he sounded. That was not what he had intended to say. Somehow, it came out first on its own accord.

"You know very well, Potter, that I am a Professor at Hogwarts."

"Yes, Sir," Harry swallowed. "I mean, other than that?"

"What are you getting at Potter?" Snape sounded impatient.

"When am I going to get my wand?" Harry demanded.

Something in Snape's face changed at this question. There was just enough calculation in it to please Snape. It was less needy and more important. Harry would be eleven soon. He knew that he would be getting a wand before he started at Hogwarts.

"You will be staying with this family until the start of the term. They will take you to Diagon Alley to get your wand. There are four wizards trained and of age. You will be well-protected," Snape assured him.

"What do they want from me, Sir?"

"You will have to find that out for yourself, Potter. I will see you at Hogwarts." With that, Snape turned in a flourish of black robes, and Harry watched him until he disappeared without a sound.

Despite the sense of loss, Harry felt, he turned and braced himself to re-enter the house. He knew that Snape had told him that he had to prepare himself for many new experiences and learn to make the most of what each could bring him. Snape trusted these people. That should be enough for Harry. There was no reason that Harry saw to distrust them. They were just overwhelming.

"Harry?"

Harry turned to see one of the older redheads. He seemed friendly enough, and Harry began walking toward him into the house. He tried to smile, even though it wasn't entirely genuine.

"Mom sent me to see where you'd got off to. I expect she thought you'd got lost. The young man teased. "I'm Charlie, by the way." He held out a hand.

Taking the hand, Harry smiled a genuine smile this time. Charlie seemed disarming and kind. It was also easy to take one person at a time instead of a large group all talking at once.

"Professor Snape left then?" Charlie asked as they walked in.

Harry nodded.

"How'd you end up with him? Or did he just bring you here?"

It sounded like Charlie was just making conversation, but Harry wondered if there was more to it. He gave the man a sideways look.

"Don't get me wrong, kid, Professor Snape was always one of my favorite professors. Even though I'm a Gryffindor."

"Really?"

"Sure. Potions is dead useful. Other than that, he's an Order member and one of the smartest men I've ever known. You can't go wrong with him, in my book," Charlie eyed Harry, patting him on the back comfortingly.

When they went back inside, Harry was already feeling better. He made a note to try to get to know Charlie, as well as Ron. It would be nice to have someone the same age. Dudley had always made sure he never had friends. Professor Snape had called it building alliances, but Harry just wanted someone to talk to.

The first thing he noticed when he sat down was that someone had unearthed Ginny. She was sitting at the other end of the table from him and didn't look up when he came in, but he could still tell that her face was beet red. He wasn't sure what to make of her odd behavior, but he couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with what Professor Snape had been warning him about. He had spent one day as himself in the wizarding world, and people were already treating him strangely.

Lunch passed smoothly. The food was excellent, and there was plenty of it. Harry could have done without Mrs. Weasley tutting over how thin Harry was and trying to give him seconds of everything. Still, the twins were funny, and Ron kept him entertained by telling him that the swearing potato was a real gnome. He also learned that Charlie was working with dragons. Harry couldn't help the slack-jawed expression on his face at learning that. He definitely had to get to know Charlie!

After they ate, Harry went upstairs to Ron's room. It turned out that Ron was also about to start his first year at Hogwarts. He didn't have his school supplies yet and would get them the next week, which answered Harry's question about the wand. Harry's birthday was in a week, so as long as they went after his birthday, he could get it.

"Your trunk is already here," Ron told Harry. "We set up a camp bed for you."

"Thanks for sharing your room with me," Harry told Ron genuinely. He hoped the boy didn't mind. He sure had a lot of brothers.

"Oh, no problem, mate! It'll be wicked having you here. We will already know each other before Hogwarts," Ron assured him.

Harry nodded. He had been thinking the same thing. He noticed that his trunk had been un-shrunk. His school trunk wasn't there, just the one with his other clothes and possessions. Snape had told him it would be stored at school until he was there to need it. Harry was relieved, seeing how small the room was.

"What house do you think you'll be in?" Ron asked, sitting on his bed and picking up a ragged-looking rat. "I hope I'm in Gryffindor. My whole family's been in Gryffindor!"

"Really?" Harry sat on his own bed, fingering the worn but comfortable-looking quilt. "I don't really care, I guess. I am just happy to be going."

"You don't care? You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" Ron demanded incredulously.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the redheaded boy. First, his sister refused to look at him, and now this. Still, Harry knew he would have to get used to this and develop a plan for dealing with it. He couldn't lose his temper every time someone annoyed him.

"Of course, I am."

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Harry asked.

"So," Ron stood up, dropping the rat in a huff. "You have to be in Gryffindor!"

"Why?" Harry answered honestly. "I do not have to do anything just because anyone expects me to. Haven't you ever had anyone expect you to do something?"

"Well, yeah," Ron looked confused or thoughtful. "I have five older brothers."

Harry felt that this conversation wasn't getting him where he wanted. He had barely met this boy, and he was already getting huffy. He tried to back off.

"Look, I'm not saying I don't want to be in Gryffindor," Harry told him. "I am just saying that I have a lot of fame for no reason. It's going to be enough on its own."

Ron seemed to be considering this. "No reason? What do you mean no reason?"

"I didn't do anything, Ron."

"You're the Boy Who Lived!"

He'd only known he was a wizard for a few days, and Harry already hated that title. He couldn't think of anything worse than being famous for living while his parents died. He tried to think of a way to explain this to Ron and decided it would only backfire.

"I am, Ron. It's not something I like to talk about, though."

"You're a hero. You ended the war," Ron insisted.

Since he hadn't looked at things from this perspective, Harry decided to concede this point. He nodded. Harry suddenly realized that people like Ron had grown up thinking of him as a symbol, not a person. He would have to grant them that small concession.

"Yes," Harry said. "And I would be proud to be sorted into Gryffindor."

That seemed to satisfy Ron, who nodded and changed the subject to Quidditch, much to Harry's relief. Harry had many questions about the game. When Ron found out that he had never been on a broomstick or even touched one, the redheaded boy looked scandalized and took off down the stairs, yelling for his brothers. Harry followed.

Fortunately, a big family like the Weasleys had quite a few broomsticks even though they obviously had stretched finances. Within minutes, the boys were gathered and had rounded up all of the family brooms and set them on the back lawn. Apparently, it served as a Quidditch pitch. By the time this was done, Harry noticed that even Ginny was lurking in the background.

"You stand next to a broom, put your hand over it like this," Fred, or maybe George, demonstrated, "and say, 'up!' with authority. You have to really mean it." The broom jumped into the boy's hand.

Although he was standing next to a worn-looking broom, Harry doubted it would do anything. He had seen plenty of magic performed by now but had never done it intentionally. The last time he had done magic was when he had blown all of the glass in the hotel room.

"Up!" Harry told the broom.

The broomstick shot into his hand, even faster than it had done into the twins. Everyone gaped at Harry, who looked at the broom in wonder. He had done magic, on purpose, for the first time.

"Liar!" Ron chuckled. "You've done this before."

"No, I swear, I haven't," Harry assured him.

"He's a natural," Charlie told them. "Well, go on then, Harry. Give it a go."

The boys demonstrated how to mount the broomstick, and soon Harry was hovering. Before long, he was even flying. He took a few lazy loops around the yard several feet in the air. Then, something just took over him. Before he knew it, he was soaring.

It was like nothing he had ever felt. He was high over the house, even though it was several stories tall. He was higher than the tallest tree. He was sailing through the air, faster and faster. Harry felt free for the first time in his life; He didn't have a care in the world.

Then he realized what he was doing. For a moment, he panicked. This was his first time on a broom! He was going to break his neck. He didn't really feel that way, though. It was like the broom was a part of himself. He didn't actually need to think about where he wanted to go; the broom just went. If this was magic, Harry wanted more.

He decided he was probably causing a panic in the others. He turned around and grounded himself, prepared for reprimands and fear. He dismounted and looked around. He noticed that the two older Weasley sons, Bill and Charlie, must have followed him into the air because they were right behind him in landing. He had been so caught up in his ariel wonderment that he hadn't even noticed.

"Well."

Bill Weasley did not seem to know what to say. Harry noticed that he looked a little green. Charlie was looking at Harry quizzically. The twins were talking excitedly amongst themselves. The expression on Ron's face was hard to read. Harry hoped it wasn't envy. Percy was the only one who seemed actually angry.

"What were you thinking!" Percy demanded. "You could have been killed. Your first time on a broom."

Although the boy was only a few years older than Harry, he tried to look contrite. He had to admit Percy had a point. He had sort of forgotten himself.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I was just kind of enjoying it, and …"

"That was wicked," both Fred and George broke in and the same time. "You have to join the team for Gryffindor."

"Nonsense," Percy scoffed. "First years never join the House teams."

"Actually," Charlie interrupted, "it's not completely unheard of. I think his father was a chaser. Not in the first year, I doubt. Still, he definitely has skill. With a bit of training … What positions do you have open?"

"He's small. Seeker definitely."

"He could be a chaser, but I agree. Seeker material. That speed!"

Harry was losing track of who was saying what at this point. They seemed to have forgotten that he was even there and not even officially a Gryffindor. At least no one was yelling at him.

"I've never gotten that old broom to go that fast," Bill lamented. "He needs a good broom."

"Right, what he could do on a real, new broom!"

"The Cup is Gryffindor's for sure!"

Harry turned to Ron. "I see what you mean. That was amazing."

Ron just gave him a funny look. "You said you'd never been on a broom before."

"I haven't," Harry insisted.

"Right," Ron stomped off into the house.

Harry looked after him. It seemed that his new friend was going to be a bit prickly. He shrugged. He could live with that. He would get some practice in people management during his time here before school started.

"Don't mind him. That really was brilliant flying."

Turning around, Harry couldn't help the grin that opened up on his face that she had finally spoken to him instead of hiding. It seemed she was a Quidditch fan. He nodded.

"I didn't want to make him feel bad. I didn't mean anything by it. I got carried away," Harry admitted.

Ginny shrugged. "So, you're talented. Don't be ashamed of it."

"Wouldn't you rather people talk about you for something you actually did?" Harry asked her.

She gave him a slight frown. "I guess I never thought about it like that."

"If I'm going to draw attention to myself anyway, it might as well be for something I have control over."

"So, you're going to be a Quidditch star?" Ginny smirked.

"Maybe," Harry laughed.

"Let's see then," Ginny challenged. She tossed Harry a small red ball about the size of an egg. "Wanna play catch?"

"Doesn't seem like much of a challenge," he told her.

"Not here," she told him. "Up there."

"You're on."

She kicked off her broom and hovered a few feet into the air, and Harry tossed the ball at her. He raced ahead of her, and she threw the ball ahead of him. He caught it easily. They continued that way until they were both exhausted, laughing, and sweating. When they landed, Harry realized that everyone below had been watching the impromptu quidditch match. They were definitely no longer arguing. Even Percy seemed to be eying Harry appraisingly.

"Definitely seeker," one of the twins stated.

"The House Cup is ours," the other agreed.

The twins came up to pat Harry on the back and give him pointers. Even Ginny joined in, although she would not be at Hogwarts for another year. Harry learned that the twins were beaters, which he had learned from Ron meant that they batted the large leather balls away from the players they went after. Harry understood why they wanted him to be a seeker. That player's only job was to catch a small golden ball. After years of running from Dudley and his gang and having things thrown at him by all three of his relatives, Harry had excellent reflexes.

Ron was frosty toward Harry the rest of that evening. Harry decided to try to make up with his new friend, so the next day after breakfast, he asked Ron to show him what it was like growing up a wizard. Ron gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"I grew up with muggles. My aunt and uncle were muggles."

"Muggles?"

"Yep. I don't want to sound completely clueless when I start school, so I was hoping you could, you know, teach me stuff. At least tell me how it works," Harry confided.

While he had calculated that telling Harry about growing up in the magical world would make Ron feel important, Harry also really did need to know. Snape had clued him in on the basics, but Harry thought that the dour professor's perspective was sometimes skewed. He also hadn't had time to tell Harry everything, and they had been living out of a hotel room, not in a regular wizard's house like this one. Harry was fascinated by everything from how the plumbing worked to how wizards got by without electricity.

Ron walked him around the house and showed him things, and told him as much of how it worked as he knew. Occasionally, Harry asked questions. Most of the time, Ron's answer was that it was a "spell" that did something, and he usually did not know what the spell was. He also told Harry that none of his brothers were allowed to do magic outside of school. They were all underage except those who had graduated. Harry knew that rule did not stop the twins. Harry had already walked in on them, brewing something in a cauldron. Ron even tried to teach Harry how to use a quill, something he would need to keep practicing.

Even though Harry wanted his wand in the worst way, he contented himself with reading his first-year textbooks. Ron thought this was pointless, and Harry had started to do it at night after Ron went to sleep. He didn't want his new friend to think he was a nerd. He usually explained it away by saying he was curious about magic and wizards, and Ron accepted it. The truth was that Harry also wanted to do well at school. His aunt and uncle had never approved of getting good grades, and he was punished if they were higher than Dudley's. Now though, he wanted Professor Snape to be impressed. For some reason, this mattered to Harry even though he had just met the man, and he seemed to want nothing to do with Harry.

A few days before his birthday, Mrs. Weasley pulled Harry aside after breakfast and asked him what he wanted to do. Harry tried not to look or act surprised. He hadn't expected them to even know when his birthday was.

"It's alright, ma'am," Harry told her politely, his face reddening from embarrassment.

"Nonsense, Dear. It's your birthday!" Mrs. Weasley insisted. "Now, what do you usually do?"

Harry wanted to disappear into the floor. It was too bad that Professor Snape wasn't here to apparate him away. As much as he hated the feeling, he would have liked to be anywhere else at the moment.

"Um, Mrs. Weasley, you really don't have to do anything," Harry hedged.

Finally noticing that he was starting to get uncomfortable, Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Well, you think about it, Dear. We have to go to Diagon Alley soon. You can get your wand!"

"Yes, ma'am. I am looking forward to that," Harry answered honestly.

Unfortunately, Ron must have overheard this conversation because later, he pounced on Harry and demanded, "Why don't you want to celebrate your birthday?"

"Isn't it up to me, Ron?" Harry asked. He didn't mean to get frustrated, but he was starting to get very uncomfortable with this entire situation.

"But it's your birthday!" Ron insisted.

"So?"

Ron gave Harry an incredulous look. "Don't you want cake and presents?"

"Really, Ron, it's okay," Harry told him.

He was starting to feel terrible. By not wanting to talk about his birthday, he must have seemed ungrateful. He knew the Weasleys didn't have much money, though, so he didn't want them buying him gifts. No one else would either. He wished they hadn't known it was his birthday at all.

"Do you think your mom can make me a cake?" Harry asked.

"Of course!" Ron nodded. "What flavor do you like?"

Since he wasn't sure how to tell Ron that he had never had any kind of cake before and there was no way he could know his favorite flavor, Harry decided to hedge again. "It doesn't matter, Ron. Whatever she wants. Why don't you surprise me?"

"But what if you don't like it?" Ron wrinkled his nose in confusion.

"I'm not that picky, Ron. Really," Harry assured him.

With a shrug, Ron went off, probably to tell his mother that Harry had agreed to a birthday cake. Harry collapsed on the couch with a sigh. He knew he was making this difficult on the Weasleys, but it had always been a difficult time for him. He was used to just staying up until midnight on his own and wishing himself 'happy birthday.' If his relatives acknowledged the day at all, it was to make it all the more miserable for him. The year before, they had thrown a party for Dudley and his friends, complete with a triple-layer chocolate cake, while Harry stayed in his cupboard.

Feeling depressed, Harry went out on the porch. As he sat watching the gnomes run around chasing the chickens, he couldn't help but be cheered up by this scene. Every once in a while, he came out here to be by himself.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Harry turned his head to see Bill. He nodded and turned back to the chickens and gnomes. Harry felt comfortable around the oldest Weasley son but did not know him well. He only knew that Bill was a curse-breaker. He spent far more time with Charlie, who told him about dragons or the twins and Ron playing Quidditch.

"Truth time, Kid," Bill said earnestly, sitting down next to Harry. "Why don't you want to celebrate your birthday. Do you miss your family?"

The idea was so laughable that Harry found himself having to physically hold back a snort. He barely thought about the Dursleys these days. In fact, thinking about his birthday might have been bitter because it made him think of them. He didn't want to say any of that, though. He just shook his head.

"It's okay to admit it, Harry," Bill assured him quietly. "You've lived with them for ten years."

Maybe it was the gentle tone in Bill's voice or the mellow magic in the setting around him, but Harry found himself actually opening up. He told Bill something he had no intention of saying. He wasn't sure why he did it either.

"I hope I never see them again."

Bill looked at Harry in surprise, as if he was trying to see if he really meant it. Harry's tone had been stiff and absolutely firm, though. There could be no doubt about his words.

"I see," Bill said slowly. "I'll be honest, Harry, I don't know much about your situation. I know what happened to your parents, obviously. I know that Professor Snape brought you here for a month. My parents are only temporary guardians, though."

Harry nodded. Professor Snape had not told him who would become his new guardians. He had to trust that Snape would not let him return to the Dursleys. Regardless, Harry would find a way to make sure it never happened. He had an entire school year to work that out. He would never go back to the Cupboard under the Stairs.

"I told Ron that it's okay for your mom to bake me a cake if she wants," Harry told Bill.

"Oh, well, she would love to do that, I know," Bill gave Harry's arm a pat. "You know my mum loves to cook and bake."

Harry nodded, still watching the gnomes and chickens.

"What flavor did you ask for? It's a tradition in our family to ask for your favorite flavor on your birthday."

Harry just shrugged and shook his head, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Bill furrowed his brow.

"I've never had any before."

"Oh!" Bill said this word as if understanding something for the first time. "Wizard cake is pretty much the same as muggle cake, Harry."

"I've never had either."

Bill frowned, "You've never had cake?"

"No."

"Why not? Is it an allergy or something?"

This time Harry did snort. He was wondering why his aunt hadn't thought of that one. It would have legitimately prevented them from him getting sympathetic looks for never getting any sweets.

"No. I don't think I'm allergic to anything. Professor Snake took me to Hogwarts for a physical, and I am pretty sure he would have told me."

Bill seemed to process this. It was suddenly dawning on him why a child who had never had cake before would not want to go back to his relatives. Harry had a feeling there would be conversations about him in the Weasley household tonight. Mrs. Weasley was always talking about how thin he was already.

"I'll tell you what, Harry," Bill said after a long pause. "Let's find out this year what your favorite flavor is. What do you say?"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the gentle tone in his voice and the fact that he didn't prod further. He also thought that this birthday might not be as bad as he had thought as Bill went quietly back into the house. The Weasley family could be overbearing, but they were also very kind and loving. They were treating Harry better than anyone had ever treated him before.

On July 31st, Harry did not wake up with a gut full of dread. He was eleven, and he was finally going to be getting his wand. The household was full of chaos as everyone got ready to go to Diagon Alley. The younger children had to buy school supplies, and the adults were there as security and crowd control for the brood. Even Arthur was there. Harry did not know him well because he was working a lot. Still, he genuinely liked the Weasley patriarch, who spent most of his time interrogating Harry about muggles. Harry didn't mind. He found the questions funny, even when he couldn't answer them. Mr. Weasley had asked him what balloons were for, and Harry had to admit he had no idea.

They were traveling by Floo. Harry was a little nervous because he had never done it on his own. Bill saw him hovering back and offered to take him, and Harry was relieved. He didn't want to seem like a baby, but he also had heard Snape's horror stories of ending up in the wrong grate. He didn't want to cause problems for the Weasleys today. They seemed to have enough on their hands.

It wasn't until they arrived at the familiar pub that Harry felt a sudden panic. He realized that he wasn't disguised and wasn't wearing a hat. Harry also had no money. He knew that he wasn't going to get very far in school without a wand. Harry was feeling like a failure before the day even started. With a downcast face, he kept to the center of the Weasleys' group as they went through the entrance into Diagon Alley.

Since he was just going where everyone else was, Harry barely noticed when they veered off and gathered in front of Fortescue's. He couldn't see over the heads of the Weasley clan's taller members, and he couldn't hear what anyone was saying over the chatter.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Ron, who happened to be next to him.

"I don't know," Ron told him with a shrug. "I think I heard Bill say we're waiting for someone."

Harry barely had time to wonder who when the crowd parted, and his heart nearly dropped into his chest. "Professor Snape."

"Potter."

Harry wasn't sure how the professor felt about seeing him after a week since his expression gave nothing away. He was just relieved to see the man again. It answered one of his questions, at least. He knew who had the money.

"We will meet up with you," Snape nodded at Arthur Weasley. More words were exchanged that Harry missed, and the rest of the Weasleys were gone.

There were so many things Harry wanted to say, but he did not wish Professor Snape to think that he was soft. After all, the man was just here to escort him to buy his wand. Harry meant nothing to him. This did not mean the man had come to mean nothing to Harry. Harry supposed that he shouldn't grow attached. He chewed his bottom lip nervously, caught himself doing so, and then stopped.

The professor sighed and conjured a cap, placing it down low over Harry's head to cover the scar. The Weasleys had all dressed in their uniforms, for reasons Harry was not sure of. Since Harry did not have his, he had just worn wizarding robes and leather shoes instead of trainers.

"Sorry, Professor. I forgot."

Snape glared at him, then nodded.

"Come, Potter. I believe we have an errand to run," Snape intoned silkily.

Harry followed, making sure to keep up with Snape. He noted that unlike last time, Snape did not snap at him to hurry, keep up, or behave. Harry wasn't sure if that was because he assumed Harry knew how to act or that a week at the Weasleys had rendered him hopeless to do so.

They entered a small, narrow, and dark shop with a sign outside that read Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. and narrow, dusty boxes piled as high as the ceiling. As soon as Harry entered, he could feel the magic of the place weighing down on him. Even with all of the magical places he had now been to, this one was somehow different. He realized he was beginning to sense magic or at least be more aware of it.

Harry stepped up to the counter, trying to contain his excitement. This was it. He was finally going to get his wand.