It was Dudley who finally spotted the Leaky Cauldron after Vernon had completed his fifth circuit of the street. Vernon, chuntering under his breath about "bloody invisible pubs" led Dudley inside (Petunia had remained at home). They were greeted by a large room which, at this time of day, was almost empty. There was an innkeeper who resembled a toothless walnut, an old woman in a shawl hunched over a tankard of some smoking beverage and an overweight wizard asleep in the corner, his hat askew and his feet resting on a stool.
"Diagon Alley?" the innkeeper said, glancing up as they entered.
"Dia—what?" Vernon snorted.
"It's the name of the place we're going," Dudley said, brandishing the letter in his meaty hands. For the past week, he had reread it countless time—unusual for Dudley who usually avoided reading at all costs. It was no looking rather the worse for wear, and had a stain where Dudley had spilt his milk on it.
"You're going to Diagon Alley," the innkeeper repeated, stepping out from behind the bar. "You're the third lot today. This way, come on." He led the Dursleys, with Dudley in the lead tugging on his father's hands to a small courtyard outside. The innkeeper pulled out a stubby wand and tapped the bricks in what appeared to be a random pattern.
"Wow!" Dudley gasped, as the brickwork moved aside, revealing a gap large enough for a man to walk through. Vernon stumbled back, muttering in shock—even though he had accepted Dudley as a wizard, and indeed, seemed keen on the idea, he still would never get used to magic.
"Bank's the big white building at the end," the innkeeper grunted. "Can't miss it."
"Dad, come on!" Dudley almost shouted. And not even stopping to say thank you or even goodbye to the innkeeper, he tugged his father through the hole.
"This is amazing!" the chubby boy gasped, his head moving from side to side to take it all in. He wishes he had a dozen extra sets of eyes, there was so much to see.
"Slugs eyes are sold out," an old wizard was mumbling angrily to his wife as he left a shop whose windows were filled with various ingredients—toad's spleens and rat hearts and even unicorn hair. A stern looking witch with a stuffed vulture on her hat was testing the strength of a cauldron by rapping it with her knuckles. Across the street, a pair of red haired twins were laughing as they left a shop called "Zonko's", their arms full with bags. Dudley laughed at the black boy with dreadlocks trailing them discretely sprinkled them with powder which immediately turned their hair pink.
Vernon too was gaping around in amazement, his mouth slightly ajar.
"Come on, Dad," Dudley said, firmly, tugging on Vernon's sleeve to pull him towards a large, white building that towered above the rest. "I hope you've got lots of money, I want to buy SO MUCH!" he exclaimed, his eyes alighting on the window of a toy shop where a group of chess pieces were having a battle and a deck of cards arranged itself into a pyramid before exploding.
"First, we'll get the money. Then we'll get my wand, then we'll get my robes then …" he trailed off as he passed Eeylops Owl Emporium, the windows of which were filled with a variety of owls, some hooting, some sleeping, some gazing curiously around. "Then I want an owl." Dudley finished, firmly.
Vernon, who seemed in a state of shock, merely nodded. Dudley grinned. He got his own way at the best of times. With his father like this though, he could really take advantage.
"Is that … a goblin?" Dudley gasped, pointing as he and his father neared the entrance to Gringott's bank. Vernon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, as if afraid that the goblin would leap out and attack him if he got too close.
Suddenly, Dudley felt a thud as something hard and heavy collided with him and he fell to his knees.
"Sorry 'bout that," a gruff voice grunted.
"What the ruddy hell do you think you're doing?" this was Vernon, his moustache brustling.
Dudley felt a pair of strong hands hoist him to his feet and he staggered uneasily.
"Alright there?" the voice asked.
Dudley turned, about to shout at whoever had knocked him over. What he saw silenced him—a man, bigger and hairier than any he had seen before was smiling kindly down at him. He was twice as tall as a regular man, with wild, long black hair and a thick black beard. His eyes were black, like beetles, and he was wearing a tunic made of fur. In his right hand he gripped a pink umbrella.
"Dudders, come here," Vernon said, hoisting him backwards. "Why don't you watch where you're going?"
"Sorry 'bout that," the giant said, frowning. "But you were stood in the doorway," he patted his pockets as if looking for something, before spying a rather tattered package on the floor. As quick as a flash he bent down and scooped it up. "Thought I'd lost it. More than my jobs worth," he muttered more to himself than anything.
"Firs' year at 'ogwarts?" the giant grunted. "Pop by and say how-do-yer-do. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper o' the keys." He held his hand out, then looked slightly perturbed when neither Dudley or Vernon shook it.
"Well, must be off, Dumbledore's expectin' me," he said, giving Dudley a wink before walking off. Dudley turned to watch him go. The bustling crowds parted easily before the giant.
"Barking," Vernon muttered. "This whole place is barking. Goblins. Giants. Wizards."
Inside, the pair joined a line before a counter that said "exchange." They were stood behind a short, posh looking boy with dark hair wearing a suit who was chatting eagerly with his parents. Dudley disliked him immediately. He was the sort of twerp he, Piers, Gordon and the rest of his gang used to beat up. Dudley cracked his knuckles, getting more and more irritated.
Vernon, meanwhile, was staring straight ahead and making every effort not to look at one of the goblins. When it was finaly their turn however, he had no choice as he and Dudley stepped forward to the counter.
"Currency exchange?" the goblin rasped. He had a long, pointed noise, and pointed ears wuith tufts of gray hair sticking out of them. A thick monocle covered one of his eyes. Dudley's attention quicly turned to the goblin beside him, who was weighing out a pile of diamons on a scale. It was more wealth than he had ever seen.
"You will receive 500 Galleons," the Goblin said, taking the money that Vernon handed over. He rummaged in a sack next to him, and Dudley's eyes bulged when he saw the gold coins.
Vernon took one, put it to his mouth and bit down on the corner. "Make sure it's not Irish …" he muttered darkly.
Dudley grabbed one too and examined it curiously. It looked like real gold and was stamped "Gringott's Bank." One side of the coin was the image of a bearded wizard, on the other a dragon.
"Cool," Dudley muttered, slipping it into his pocket. He waited impatiently as Vernon counted the rest, making sure the amount was correct.
"Finally," he said, as Vernon, satisfied, slipped the coins into a small pouch which the goblin had given him. "Now, come on, we need to get a wand."
That is what Dudley had been looking forward too ever since Dumbledore had visited Number 4, Privet Drive a week ago. With a wand, he could finally do magic.
"Where the ruddy hell do we get one?" Vernon said, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around bewildered. "No sign posts, of course," he muttered.
Dudley looked around too. He could see the owl emporium, a shop called Madame Malkin's which sold robes, a shop with a variety of handsome quills in the window and even an ice-cream parlor, outside of which, a group of teenagers were laughing at some joke or another. Nearby, the witch with a stuffed vulture on her hat who Dudley had noticed earlier was leading a plump boy towards the robe shop.
There was also a shop called "Quality Quidditch Supplies" which had a pair of girls stood outside, gazing in at the window.
"Fastest on the market," one of the girls, who was tall with braided hair was saying to her friend. "I would LOVE to have one."
Dudley made a mental note to drag his father to the shop later. He wanted a broom. He wanted whichever one was the fastest on the market.
"Excuse me, you look a little lost," a squeaky voice said, making Dudley jump.
"What?" Vernon snapped. The two glanced around to see a short, old wizard wearing a violently purple top hat and matching cloak.
"Lost, what are you looking for?"
Vernon's eyes twitched, and Dudley could tell he was having an internal struggle between talking to this peculiar looking wizard and having to find the wand shop by himself.
"You're muggles?" the man said, cheerfully. "First time here? I know it's a bit much to take in."
"A … what. Muggle?" Vernon spluttered. "What's that you're calling us?"
Dudley saw his dad's face growing a dark shade of purple—always a bad sign.
"Relax. Relax, sir. I meant no offence. Muggles—it's people who can't do magic. You're not a wizard," the man said.
"Of course I'm not," Vernon replied.
"Jolly good, jolly good. I always say the wizarding community needs new blood. The purists, they're dead against it. But some of the best wizards and witches I've known have been muggleborn," the wizard chattered. "Indeed, I have many muggleborn friends. Squibs too, I know one or two very nice squibs."
Vernon and Dudley looked at the man as if he was speaking a different language.
"Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle," he bowed, sweeping his top hat off his head as he did so. "You were looking for something?"
Vernon composed himself. "Wand," he grunted. "Dudders here needs a wand." As he spoke, Dudley felt his father grip his arm tightly.
"The you need Ollivanders. Finest wandmaker in the world. Why, my wand is an Ollivander wand. Come this way sir, I'll be delighted. Thrilled! To take you there," Diggle chattered, leading the way.
"Any idea which house you will be in?" Diggle asked. "I was a Hufflepuff—'those patient Hufflepuff's are true and unafraid of toil!" he quoted.
"House?" Dudley said, furrowing his brow. "Huffing puff?"
"Of course, of course, how foolish of me," Diggle said, slapping his hand against his forehead and almost knocking off his top hat. "You wouldn't know. How could you?"
"Barkin' …" Vernon muttered, edging himself and Dudley a few inches further away from Diggle.
Diggle, however, didn't seem to have heard. "There are four houses at Hogwarts. Gryffindor were dwell the brave at heart. Ravenclaw where those who are brainy end up. Slytherin, for those pure of blood and full of ambition, and Hufflepuff where the loyal and hardworking go."
"So," Vernon said, surprising Dudley by speaking. "Our Dudders will be sent to one of these, whatdoyoucallem, houses?"
"Quite right, Sir, quite right. Very clever of you," Diggle said cheerfully.
"How?" Dudley demanded.
"It's a secret." Diggle winked. "Well, here we are, Ollivander's. Go on. Go on. Step inside. I can't stick around. Lockhart's new book is out today and I HAVE to buy it."
Diggle had led them to a rather plain, unspectacular looking store. It was narrow and shabby. The old, peeling letters over the door read "Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC." A single wand lay on a purple cushion in the dusty window.
Despite the store looking ordinary, Dudley felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The place radiated with an unseen energy.
"Go ahead. Go ahead," Diggle said. "Cheerio," the top hat wearing wizard departed, leaving Dudley and his father alone outside the wand shop.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which Vernon sat on to wait. Dursley glanced around, drawn to the thousands of dusty boxes on the shelves. He reached out a ham-like hand for one.
"Don't touch," said a soft voice. Dudley jumped. Vernon 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 them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Why?" Dudley demanded. He wasn't used to being told what to do.
"They are dangerous," the man, who Dudley took to be Mr. Ollivander said. "Now … Mr?"
"I'm Dudley,"
"Dudley, let's get you a wand." Ollivander removed a box from the shelf and pulled out a long, brown wand. "Let's try this, oak, 11 inches, containing a unicorn hair."
Dudley almost snatched the wand from Ollivander, but had barely given it a wave before Ollivander took it back. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try it."
Dudley tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. Dudley's eyes narrowed.
"No, no. Here. Ebony and unicorn hair. Eight and a half inches. Springy. Go on. Go on. Try it."
"Oi!" Dudley shouted, stomping his foot as Ollivander again snatched the wand from him. "Give it back!"
"Now, see here," Vernon growled.
"The wand chooses the wizard," Ollivander said sternly. "You need to try them all until you find one that chooses you, or you'll find yourself unable to perform magic. Patience. Now, let's try this …"
Dudley didn't have much patience, and he really wanted to shout and argue. But those beaming eyes were unsettling. Dudley tried and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of wands was mounting higher on higher on the spindly chair, and Vernon's face was getting purple and purple, while Dudley's own was getting redder and redder. The latest wand he yanked away from Mr. Ollivander and waved it as hard as it could.
"Work! Work! Work" he shouted, yanking it out of Ollivander's reach and waving it hard.
"Now, really!" Ollivander raised his voice. "If you can't comose yourself. You can leave and buy your wand somewhere else."
Dudley's lip trembled. This was usually the moment when he had a temper tantrum. Vernon seemed to sense trouble for he stepped forward.
"Try a few more, Dud," he said soothingly. "You'll get one that works. Then we cans ee about getting you an owl, eh?"
Placated, Dudley nodded and handed the wand back to Ollivander who looked disgruntled.
"Tricky customer, eh?" Ollivander muttered. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder now—yes, why not—unusual combination. Holly and phoenix feather. Eleven inches. Nice and supple."
Dudley gritted his teeth and waved the wand—nothing.
Ollivander pursed his lips. "I wonder … old stock. Perhaps … it's a long shot," he muttered to himself. He returned shortly with the three oldest and dustiest boxes.
"Old wands," he whispered. "Made by my father, the last three he made. Cores I don't use any more, but you never know."
The kelpie hair and apple wand didn't work. Nor did the dittany stalk and rowan
"Unusual, unusual. Troll whisker and yew," Ollivander said. "The very last wand my father made before he died. 12 inches, unusually long and swishy. Good for charm work."
Dudley took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework throwing dancing spots of light on the walls.
"Bravo, Dudders," Vernon said, his voice booming.
Ollivander put the wand back in its box and Vernon, fumbling with the unusual currency, handed over a pile of galleons.
"Time to get an owl," Dudley stated, leading the way outside without even saying goodbye to Ollivander. He finally had a wand. He was on his way to becoming a proper wizard.