Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Additionally, this chapter contains some material quoted or paraphrased from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, chapter 5.
July 1991
Harry woke to the familiar weight of Rhast snuggled against his side, one heavy coil wrapped loosely around his arm and a couple more tangled in his legs. The snake's head was nestled into his neck. He smiled faintly. He didn't have to worry about rolling over and crushing the snake at night as he had when Rhast had first come to live with him. Now, he sometimes worried about the snake crushing him at night. And his growth had yet to show any sign of slowing. He'd been steadily increasing about two-thirds of a meter every year since Harry had befriended him.
And then three things that were not normal shook him from his thoughts about his only friend. First. It was too bright. His cupboard was always dark. Since he'd been moved into Dudley's spare bedroom, it was brighter, but not this bright with the one small window that was always kept covered so the neighbors wouldn't see anything "freaky". He preferred it shut at night anyway. He wasn't used to sleeping with the street light streaming in.
Second. The smell was all wrong. His nose was full of dust and old leather and something else only vaguely recognized. Third, it was too cold. The cupboard was always stifling hot. The bedroom, a bit less, but never this cold. Certainly not in summer. It wasn't freezing, but certainly cool.
Another thing was a strange tapping noise.
His sleepy daze was abruptly dashed away when the previous night came flooding back. His eyes shot open and his hand automatically found his glasses and stuffed them onto his face. He sat up and found Rubeus unconscious, sprawled across the sofa that looked tiny compared to him. Sunlight was streaming into the room.
Tap, tap, tap.
And there was… an owl tapping at the window.
Remembering that Rubeus had sent an owl out last night with a message, he thought this might be something like that, so he disentangled the snake from his limbs – getting a sleepy hiss of protest for his efforts – and went to open the window.
The owl immediately swooped inside and dropped the newspaper that it carried on top of the unconscious giant – who did not so much as stir.
Then the owl set upon Rubeus' coat, pecking at it.
Eyes widening in horror, Harry rushed back across the room, only to arrive a second too late.
"Rhast! You can't eat these owls!" Harry hissed nervously at the reptile currently crushing the bird and working it down his throat. Harry sighed in exasperation and looked worriedly at Rubeus, who was still sleeping. Once the snake had swallowed the bird completely, Harry leveled his unrepentant friend with a glare. "Ask before you eat, would you?! That was a trained owl! It might have been someone's pet!"
The snake swished his tail in something Harry had learned to interpret as a kind of snake shrug.
Harry would have liked to say something more, but Rubeus finally seemed to be stirring.
He sat up with a loud yawn and a stretch, then blinked at the paper in his lap. "Hm? Oh. Yeh paid the owl?"
So that must be why it went for the coat. "Yep," Harry casually lied, moving back to the window to close it. Hopefully, Rubeus wouldn't notice that he wasn't missing any money.
"Well, best be off, Harry. Lots ter do today. Gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."
That brought to mind a rather significant problem. Harry frowned warily. "Ah, sir…"
"Hagrid," the man chuckled while he pulled on his boots.
"Excuse me?"
"Me name. Call me Hagrid. Everyone does."
Harry nodded, "Mr. Hagrid…"
Another chuckle interrupted him. "Not 'Mr.', Harry. Jus' Hagrid."
Harry forced himself to smile politely even though he was getting a bit annoyed. He had something important to ask, and the man couldn't stop going on about his name. "Hagrid," he corrected. "I was wondering… You said that my name has been down for Hogwarts since I was born, but I don't have any money. Is there some sort of scholarship…?" Vernon and Petunia certainly wouldn't be paying.
"Oh, don' worry 'bout that, Harry," Rubeus – or Hagrid or whatever – dismissed as he stood up and scratched at his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn' leave yeh anything?"
"Oh," Harry blinked, trying not to get too excited. It was unlikely to be a lot after all, but it really did feel good to think that he had something of his own. Hagrid had said something about the house being destroyed, so that was probably a lot of it gone right there. If it was enough to get him through – what had Hagrid said? – seven years of wizarding school, then he could start making his own.
"Have a sausage. They're not bad cold. An' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."
Harry blinked and nodded quickly as he located the cake for Hagrid, trying not to smell it, and helped himself to the sausages. Warm or cold, they were a lot better than what Harry was used to getting. When he was permitted to eat, it was always cold, and usually a bit that was burned – not that the food was often burned when he was cooking – or some that had fallen on the floor. Sometimes it was what he could snitch out of the bin when no one was looking.
"So I have some kind of inheritance?" he asked while he ate.
"A vault. At Gringotts."
"Gringotts?" Harry asked while thinking: a whole vault? Surely that was a wizard thing. It didn't mean anything, he told himself firmly. Getting his hopes up only ended in pain. Don't do it.
"Wizard bank," Rubeus nodded. "Run by goblins."
Harry almost choked on the sausage he'd been trying to swallow. "I'm sorry, did you say goblins?" he asked as politely as he could when he was again able to breathe.
"Yeh," the giant replied in a tone that suggested it was perfectly normal in his world. "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 of fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." He drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you. Getting' things from Gringotts. Knows he can trust me, see."
Harry nodded. He did see. Probably more than Hagrid thought he saw. The man clearly saw it as an honor to serve Dumbledore, and judging by his display last night when Vernon called Dumbledore a crackpot old fool, he'd probably die before betraying the headmaster. Harry wouldn't forget that little tidbit.
"Got everythin'? Come on, then."
Harry nervously followed Rubeus out onto the rock, Rhast right behind him lest he get left behind. He was a bit uneasy about going somewhere with this strange man that he'd just met, but considering what he knew awaited him as soon as he was alone with the Dursleys, he figured this was easily the safer option.
The sky was clear now, and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.
"How'd you get here?" Harry wondered cautiously. Asking questions still felt dangerous, but Hagrid hadn't reacted poorly to any of them yet. At least, not in any way directed toward Harry.
"Flew," Hagrid said easily.
Harry blinked, replayed that in his mind, and decided that he hadn't misheard. "Flew?" he inquired, hoping the big man would elaborate as it seemed unlikely that he was talking about an airplane.
"Yeah. But we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."
Harry nodded, wondering again why Rubeus wasn't supposed to use magic, but it still didn't feel right to ask.
"Seems a shame ter row, though," Hagrid muttered, giving Harry a sideways look. "If I was ter… er… speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
"Of course not," Harry smiled, mentally filing this into his list of all the things he was generously doing for the man. He'd remember to bring it up later if it seemed helpful.
Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again – which Harry found rather odd – tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.
The trip to land was… interesting. Hagrid read his newspaper while the boat propelled itself – Harry found it funny that the Dursleys were going to have an interesting time getting back without the boat, though it would probably just make them angrier in the long run. Then again, Dudley had a pig's tail. It really couldn't get much worse than that.
"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered as he read.
"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked warily.
"'Course. They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning askin' fer advice."
Harry sighed almost silently as he filed that bit of information away as well. It seemed like everything he heard about this Dumbledore person only made him more dangerous. Voldemort was afraid of him. The Minister deferred to him. The public apparently liked him if they wanted him for minister.
After they made land, they walked to the train station and boarded a train – Harry had to help Hagrid with the "muggle money". Harry looked over his supply list on the train. Robes. Robes? The only thing that came to mind when Harry thought of robes were like bathrobes. Surely that wasn't right, so he had no idea what robes were. He moved on passed that. Pointed hats? Really? As part of a uniform?
No, best to ignore the clothes entirely. He'd have to see them to know how ridiculous he'd look in them. Hm. Gloves. Dragon hide. Dragon? Dragons were real, then?
Harry took a moment to close his eyes and focus on his breathing. There was just so much. So much that he didn't know. He felt completely adrift. Since shortly after starting school, Harry had armed himself against the world with knowledge. He'd read every book that he could get his hands on and he'd memorized them. He'd studied science and politics and language, economy and commerce and law. He wasn't an expert on anything really with the limited time he had to study, but he had a decent grasp on a lot of things.
Now he was entering an entirely new world with its own ministry, its own culture. He was going to have to start all over again.
When they reached their stop, Harry followed the giant man up onto a street lined with shops. Harry was very grateful that Hagrid's massive size carved such a swath through the crowd because it allowed Harry to follow in a fairly clear path behind him. Most importantly, Rhast could follow that path as well. Harry had never been to London before, and Rhast certainly had not. The thought of his invisible snake surrounded by so many heavy feet was unnerving.
Harry just hoped that all of this was real and Hagrid wasn't some crackpot or child predator. At least he had Rhast with him. If Hagrid tried anything bad, the snake would bite him.
"This is it," Hagrid said at last, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
Harry kept his face blank lest his doubt be apparent. Hagrid was indicating a tiny, grubby-looking pub that everyone else on the street seemed to be ignoring. If this was the magical world's definition of "famous", Harry may have seriously overestimated the meaning of that word when Hagrid said it.
When they entered the pub, Harry didn't find himself any more impressed than he'd been with the outside. It was dark and shabby, populated by decidedly strange and somewhat unnerving people. 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 an old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid. They waved and smiled at him while the bartender reached for a glass. "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom. I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid said importantly, clapping a great hand on Harry's shoulder and nearly making Harry's knees buckle.
"Good Lord," the bartender gasped, peering at Harry. "Is this… can this be…?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender. "Harry Potter… What an honor."
Harry tensed as Tom hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry, and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back."
Ah, so perhaps "famous" was not an overstatement then. Being recognized by perfect strangers was certainly new. The awe that he saw in the man's eyes was interesting though. Hagrid was grinning at him as though he thought this was a wonderful thing.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
They were talking to him, but he wasn't able to process much of their words with most of his attention focused on not flinching away from every touch, and they all seemed very keen to touch him. Rhast had been forced to dodge the stampede and Harry could feel him now hissing quietly back in the corner.
A pale young man made his way forward then, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid crowed. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," Quirrell stammered, grasping Harry's hand, "C-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
Harry nodded and tried to smile politely at his future professor, though he was privately wondering how the hell someone with a stutter like that could manage to teach.
Soon, the others crowded back in again, pushing Quirrell away.
It took a relative eternity – that was probably only ten minutes – to escape the small mob in the pub. "Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
Harry just nodded in return, still trying to calm his racing heart as he felt Rhast rub reassuringly against his leg. Hagrid seemed to think that being mauled by perfect strangers was quite the treat. Harry was just wondering how much more of that he'd have to deal with today.
"Three up… two across…" Hagrid was muttering. "Right, stand back, Harry."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
Harry's eyes widened as he watched the bricks begin to move of their own accord, swiftly realigning themselves into an archway that opened into a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
"Welcome, to Diagon Alley," Hagrid grinned.
Harry kept his face blank as he struggled to take in everything in this strange new place. He thought that he understood what a robe was now, as most of the people that he could see seemed to be wearing the same sort of strange… robes. It definitely wasn't as bad as he'd feared, and he thought that he could get used to wearing them. It couldn't be any worse than Dudley's rags, and at least he'd look just as good as everyone else.
He tried to let a lot of the details roll off him to avoid becoming overwhelmed, but he couldn't help but notice that, as strange as everything was, it was also very ordinary. The people were dressed strangely and talking about strange things, but they didn't otherwise look much different than anyone else. The kids were gushing about something in a store window the way Dudley and his friends gushed about new toys. Adults muttered about the prices of goods or hurried from store to store as though they had more to do than time in the day. Some of them were wrangling children while they moved about.
Harry found himself calming slightly as he followed Hagrid quickly through the Alley. This was all new, but maybe not as strange as he'd feared. People here were still people – no matter how strange.
That lasted until they reached…
"Gringotts," Hagrid said.
In front of them was a huge, Roman-style white building with bronze doors and standing by the door in a scarlet and gold uniform was…
"Yeah, that's a goblin," Hagrid said quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward it. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard, and Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. The goblin bowed as they approached, which startled Harry briefly, but he hastily bowed in return before he was swept through the door after Hagrid. They were faced with a second pair of doors there, these ones silver and engraved with words.
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.
"Like I said, ye'd be mad ter try an' rob it," Hagrid nodded toward the inscription.
Harry nodded thoughtfully at the poetic threat.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and Harry bowed again, this time noting that Hagrid did not even acknowledge the small creatures. Harry frowned curiously at that and looked at the goblins, who were watching him with curiosity in turn, but they didn't seem displeased by his action.
He filed that away for later consideration and followed Hagrid into a vast marble hall. There were about a hundred more goblins 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 count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry followed Hagrid to the counter.
"Morning," Hagrid said to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."
"You have his key, sir?" the goblin asked suspiciously.
"Got it here somewhere," Hagrid muttered and 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 in disgust and Harry sighed almost silently. Hagrid did not seem to possess much for manners or tact. He gave the goblin what he hoped could be interpreted as an apologetic look and the goblin responded with a thoughtfully raised eyebrow. They were strange-looking creatures, but they didn't seem any less intelligent than humans. They couldn't be and run a bank, surely.
"Got it," Hagrid announced at last, 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," Hagrid added importantly, throwing out his massive chest again. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.
The goblin read the letter while Harry wondered about the You-Know-What.
"Very well," the goblin said at last, handing the letter back to Hagrid. "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he moved to follow the second goblin.
"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded to the goblin who had helped them, then hurried after the rude giant. They followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall. The goblin held the door for them and Harry noticed warily that he held it a bit longer than necessary – until Rhast was fully through behind them. He frowned uncertainly at the goblin who may or may not have been aware of the invisible snake among them, but Griphook just moved passed him without comment or even a significant look.
Harry finally focused on his surroundings and was a little surprised to find that they were in 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 toward them. They climbed in after the goblin. Hagrid took the rear seat with some difficulty while Harry took his time about getting into the middle seat so that Rhast could curl up around his feet.
The cart started moving, picking up speed very quickly. Soon, they were hurtling through a maze of twisted passages. Harry struggled to keep track of which direction they were going and what turn they took where, but he soon found that it was impossible.
Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed passed them and his legs were beginning to go numb due to the fact that Rhast was tightening around them more and more all the time.
When the cart at last stopped beside a small door in the passage wall, Harry glanced back to see that Hagrid was looking more than a bit green and he stumbled on his way out of the cart. Great, the giant was motion sick. Harry really hoped that he didn't hurl. He was a little unsteady himself as he tried to work blood back into his legs while he climbed out of the cart, the unrepentant snake right next to him.
Griphook ignored their unsteadiness as he moved to the door and unlocked it. Harry's eyes widened as he got a look at what was inside. There were small mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins strewn all over inside the vault.
"All yours," Hagrid smiled.
Harry cleared his throat and tried not to get ahead of himself. "H-how much are these worth?" he wondered.
"The gold ones are galleons," Hagrid explained. "Seventeen silver sickles to a galleon and twenty-nine knuts to a sickle. It's easy enough."
Harry frowned at him and tried to make sense of that. Seventeen and twenty-nine were both prime numbers – not that he saw how that made more sense of it. To him, it seemed more like someone had cast the coins, then figured out how many of the bronze and silver were necessary to match the value of the gold instead of figuring out how much weight was needed, then casting the coins in the right size so that the conversions were simpler. Or maybe the relative values had been different when the coins were originally cast, and they'd just adjusted them as necessary rather than changing the size or weight of the coins… That was possible.
He shook that thought and tried to focus on the problem at hand. He looked at Hagrid, then remembered the difficulties that he'd had with muggle money and transferred his attention to the goblin lingering near the door. "Excuse me, Mr. Griphook, but could you tell me how much a galleon is worth compared to… muggle pounds?"
The goblin lifted an eyebrow at him, but responded neutrally enough. "A galleon is worth approximately 4.93 muggle pounds, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you," Harry nodded as he quickly did some math in his head. He'd always been good with maths. Rounding to an even five pounds for the sake of his brain, that meant that there were about two hundred galleons to a thousand pounds. Looking at the pile of gold coins in front of him, he estimated that he could probably hold about fifteen of them in his fist, which meant that just over six and a half fistfuls would be a hundred, so a two-liter bucket could probably hold three hundred of them. He picked a few up and confirmed that they were quite heavy for their size.
"Um. Is there…?" he trailed off as Hagrid handed him a bag. He looked at it dubiously. By his estimate, it would only hold about thirty or forty coins.
"If you wish, Mr. Potter, Gringotts provides charmed bags for a small fee. They're expanded to be larger on the inside and always remain light."
Harry sighed in relief and smiled gratefully at the goblin. "How much is the fee?"
"One galleon for a standard bag, five for the deluxe. The deluxe bag includes a larger space for up to a thousand galleons and anti-theft charms that will render it empty and useless should anyone but you attempt to retrieve money from it. They are, of course, reusable."
"I'll take the deluxe then, please," Harry nodded.
The goblin snapped his long fingers and a bag just appeared it them, causing Harry to start slightly. He smiled as he accepted the bag. "Do I pay you then?" he wondered.
"The fee has already been deducted from your vault."
Harry blinked, then shrugged. If the goblin could make a bag appear out of thin air, then he could probably make five galleons from among these piles disappear just as easily. That gave him another thought, "Do I have to count out each coin that I want to take then, or is there an easier way, sir?"
"I can fill the bag for you if you wish. How much would you like?" the goblin inquired, still perfectly neutral.
At least he didn't seem bothered by Harry's questions, but then Harry supposed that this was a business and he was a customer, so that made sense. "Um, five hundred galleons?"
The goblin snapped his fingers again and Harry felt the bag in his hand swell slightly even as he noticed one pile in the back of the room get noticeably smaller. He peered into the bag and found it now filled with shining gold coins though it was still very light. "Thank you. Um, is it possible to get muggle pounds here?"
"The conversion rate is two percent, and we do offer muggle-style wallets with the same charms as that bag. How much would you like?"
Harry frowned thoughtfully. He knew that his aunt and uncle would steal the money if they could, so he'd definitely want one of those charmed wallets. He didn't know if he'd get a chance to spend much if any of it at the Dursleys, but the idea of having the money if he did need it was enticing – assuming, of course, that he survived returning to the Dursleys. Or that they survived it.
"A thousand pounds," he figured should be plenty.
A couple more snaps of his clawed fingers, and Harry was provided with a black leather wallet, which did indeed contain a sizeable stack of twenty-pound notes. He contained a hysterical giggle at having so much money and nodded his thanks to the goblin. And he hadn't even taken half of one of the six piles of gold in the room. Maybe he wasn't "rich" per se, but he figured that he would have a lot more than enough money to get him through school.
"Well, that should be plen'y fer a couple o' terms. We'll keep the rest safe fer yeh," Hagrid said as Harry tucked the bag and wallet into his pockets. He turned to Griphook then. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
"One speed only," Griphook replied in that neutral voice as they closed up Harry's vault and moved back into the cart.
"Try not to strangle my legs," Harry whispered under his breath while Hagrid was making a great racket climbing in behind him. He noticed with slight unease that the goblin was looking at him curiously as Rhast replied.
"I will try, Master, but if I fall out, you will catch me."
Harry smirked faintly at that, but made sure to put a firm hand on the coil that lay over his lap when he settled. The goblin didn't comment on his quiet hissing, and seemed to dismiss it as he started the cart moving once more.
Vault seven hundred thirteen had no keyhole. Instead, Griphook just ran one of his long fingers gently down the door and it simply melted away.
Harry shivered slightly at the way the air seemed to stir.
"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," Griphook informed him.
"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry wondered.
"About once every ten years," the goblin grinned nastily.
Harry smiled just a little and made a mental note to never get on the bad side of the goblins. He didn't get the sense that they'd hesitate to stuff him in one of these vaults, famous or not.
Inside, the vault was nearly empty, holding only a single small package wrapped in grubby brown paper, which Hagrid quickly snatched up and stuffed deep into his coat. Harry was curious about what was apparently so important and secret, but he knew better than to ask.
"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back. It's best if I keep me mouth shut," Hagrid said gruffly as they piled back into the cart one last time.
When they reached the surface, Harry thanked the goblin politely and the goblin gave a small bow in return. He then followed Hagrid back into the bright sunlight, looking around eagerly at all of the strange shops now that he had money to spend.
"Might as well get yer uniform," Hagrid said, drawing Harry's attention toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."
Harry frowned slightly. He didn't like the idea of this giant man drinking while he was around Harry, but he did like the idea of getting a little time away from the man who'd seemed to insult the goblins accidentally several times. He hesitated only a moment before giving a small nod.
Hagrid lumbered off toward the pub and Harry turned toward the robe shop. He took a quiet breath and steeled himself for anything as he stepped inside.
He was immediately greeted by a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked before Harry could speak. "Got the lot here. Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
In the back of the shop was a boy who looked about Harry's age. He had pale skin and pale blond hair, and he stood very straight atop a small stool while a second woman pinned up his long black robes.
The woman led Harry over next to the other boy and ushered him up onto a stool before slipping a robe over his head and beginning to pin it to the right length.
"Hello," the boy said. "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," Harry nodded, eyeing the pretty blond boy curiously.
"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street at the apothecary," the boy said in a bored, drawling voice that dripped smooth confidence belied by a tension in the way he was holding himself. "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."
Harry smiled at the boy that seemed to be trying to impress him. "What will you do with a broom at school if you're not allowed to have it?" he inquired, letting his amusement show through. "You wouldn't be able to actually use it without getting caught, would you?" He'd seen the signs for racing brooms, though he wasn't clear on whether they were meant to be ridden or if they were sort of like magically radio controlled or something.
The blonde looked at him sharply as he seemed to be trying to decide if he was being mocked.
Harry made sure his smile was gentle so it would be clear that it wasn't meant as an insult.
After a moment, the blonde snorted elegantly – a feat that Harry hadn't realized was possible. "Have you got your own broom then?"
"No," Harry shrugged.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No."
"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 yet?"
Harry made an effort to not laugh at the boy's bragging. Harry was beginning to suspect that this boy knew even less about making friends than Harry did. He may not have ever had friends of his own, but he was very good at observing and he'd figured out how friendships worked, for the most part. He just wished that he had some idea of just what the boy was talking about. What the hell was Quidditch, anyway?
"No," Harry said again, making a mental list of books he needed to look for when he went to buy his school books. Something on Quidditch and something about Hogwarts were on there so far. And maybe something about brooms. Racing brooms. Did they really fly on brooms like in the story books, then? It just seemed terribly impractical. Was there something about brooms that made them ideal for that as well as for cleaning the floors?
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, 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?"
Having no idea what the boy was talking about, Harry just gave him a somewhat conspiratorial smile, which seemed to do the trick.
"I say, look at that man!" he said suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.
"That's Hagrid," Harry frowned slightly, wondering how much the giant had managed to drink since they'd parted.
"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"
"The gamekeeper, apparently," Harry shrugged. A lot about the boy's bearing was starting to make sense as he so disdainfully sneered the word "servant". This boy had to be rich.
"Yes, exactly," the boy nodded. "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."
Harry grimaced faintly at the mention of the giant getting drunk.
"Why is he with you?" the blonde asked with a sudden suspicion in his silvery eyes. "Where are your parents?"
Harry lifted an eyebrow at the blonde and replied flatly, "Dead."
"Oh, sorry," the boy said automatically, not actually sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
Harry frowned at the boy, starting to get a little impatient with his lack of manners. "If you mean magical, then yes, they were."
The boy nodded, seeming somewhat relieved. "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 their letter. Imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
The woman working on his robes picked that minute to interrupt. "That's you done, my dear."
Harry hopped down from the stool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," the blond boy said, either forgetting his own question or not having cared that much for the answer to begin with.
"Right," Harry sighed, walking away from the boy before he gave in to the urge to tell him exactly how little he'd appreciated hearing about how he didn't deserve to go to Hogwarts. It wasn't like it was his fault that no one had bothered to tell him anything about the magical world before last night.
Harry paid for his robes, then met Hagrid outside the shop. He frowned uncomfortably as he slowly accepted the giant cone he was offered. He hesitated, wondering if he should just try to force himself to eat the sugary confection. He really wasn't sure that he could actually keep it down though. "Um… Hagrid…" he said cautiously.
The giant frowned. "Do yeh not like the flavors?" he worried.
"I actually don't care for any ice cream," Harry said cautiously.
Hagrid blinked at him as though he'd never heard anyone say such a thing. "Oh," he said finally, thankfully accepting the cone of frozen sugar back. "Sorry, Harry. I didn' even think… Well, come on, then. We'll get yeh somethin' else."
Harry was led to a small café near the ice cream parlor, and was instructed to get anything that he wanted. He settled on a crusty roll of bread with dates baked into it – a large roll, since this was apparently to fill in for lunch.
"What's up?" Hagrid asked after a while of eating in silence – Hagrid had taken on both cones himself.
Harry hesitated a moment before admitting, "There's just so much that I don't know about this world. What's Quidditch, for example?"
"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know – not knowin' about Quidditch!"
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes and sarcastically thank the idiot for stressing just how ignorant he was. "There was a boy at the robe shop who said that people from muggle families shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts because they don't know anything about the magical world," he admitted somewhat stiffly.
"Yer not from a muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were – he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it? Some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' muggles. Look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"
Harry nodded slowly. He supposed that made sense, but it didn't make him or those like him any less ignorant. How could the wizards wait until a month before school started to tell them anything? He may not be from a muggle family, as Hagrid had said, but he'd been raised by them, and he was just as ignorant as all the others. That's what the boy had been talking about. And maybe he would have changed his tune if he'd known that Harry was "the Harry Potter", but then it would only be because he was famous. Not because he was any less ignorant.
"So what is Quidditch?" he finally sighed. He needed to know some basic things as soon as possible.
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like football in the muggle world. Everyone follows Quidditch. It's played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls – sorta hard ter explain the rules."
Harry nodded. That was probably enough for now anyway. "And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"School Houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but…"
"Why do they say that?"
"Oh. Well. I s'pose that's 'cause they're a pretty quiet bunch. Knowed for workin' hard and bein' loyal. Don' get mad easy like."
Harry nodded slowly as he tried to process how those traits made them "duffers". Probably, they didn't fight back enough and let others push them around.
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin, though," Hagrid went on darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."
Harry frowned thoughtfully at that. The boy in the robe shop was sure that he'd be Slytherin – his whole family was – and he didn't seem evil. A bit stuck up and lacking in manners, but not evil. How many eleven year olds could really be evil anyway? Then again, Harry spent his free time plotting ways to torture his family to death. Maybe he was evil. Strange, he didn't feel evil. He didn't hurt people for fun, or even want to. He just thought that some people deserved to be hurt.
He shook that thought with an effort. "So Voldemort was at Hogwarts?" he wondered.
Hagrid shuddered, "Shouldn't be sayin' his name like that, Harry."
"Why not?" Harry wondered.
Hagrid looked somewhat flustered by the question. "Why not…? Well, because… 'cause yeh jus' don', Harry."
Harry was not going to call him You-Know-Who. That was just plain stupid. And he'd said the name several times without anything bad happening to him. He supposed maybe you had to be there when Voldemort was around to understand it, but he still couldn't see it. He shrugged. "He was a Slytherin, then?"
"Years an' years ago," Hagrid nodded, though he still looked unsettled about hearing the name.
Harry tried hard not to roll his eyes.
"Hagrid, how are we going to carry everything?" Harry wondered as they started walking again. He was looking at his list and it seemed like it would be cumbersome by the time he had all his books and a cauldron and scales and a telescope and everything else.
"Oh…" Hagrid scratched at his beard. "Well, I s'pose we should get yer trunk."
That didn't sound much easier to carry, but Harry didn't complain as he followed Hagrid into a shop called Luggin's Luggage.
Harry was immediately impressed by the fact that the inside of the store was much larger than the outside should have allowed. What had seemed a regular shop from the outside was more like a warehouse on the inside, filled with tall shelves holding luggage of all shapes and sizes and colors. There were trunks, chests, portable cabinets and shelves, shoulder bags, back packs, waist purses, and even lockets that claimed to hold anything from a dozen cubic centimeters to two cubic meters of space.
Harry was very impressed.
"Here's the Hogwarts trunks," Hagrid nodded toward a large pyramid of generic-looking trunks under a sign that read: Hogwarts Special, set the color after you're sorted!
What the sign was missing was a description of enchantments that most of the others had. Things like Feather-Weight, Auto-Shrinking, 4 Compartment, Anti-Theft Warded, and the cubic space contained within – some of which seemed large enough to be entire rooms inside. Some had compartments specially designed for books, potions, wardrobe, live animal transport, and much more. None of them seemed to have prices though, like the Hogwarts Special did. That was listed at 5 Galleons.
"Hello, there!" a cheerful wizard greeted as he hobbled out of the back. "Welcome to Luggin's Luggage, I'm Graham Luggin. Looking for the Hogwarts Special today?"
Harry spoke up before Hagrid could. "I'm not sure. How much are your other trunks?"
Graham's eyes seemed to get a bit brighter at the question. "Well, that depends on what you're looking for. We've got a wide variety of options as you can see. You can choose the material as well as the enchantments that go into it. What did you have in mind?"
Harry eyed some of the displays curiously.
"Harry, yeh don' need one o' them fancy jobs," Hagrid interrupted. "Most o' the students use these."
"If I'm going to be using it for the next seven years, I might as well invest in a good one," Harry pointed out. He was quite sure that everything he owned for the next seven years would need to fit in that trunk because he would never dare leave anything at the Dursleys'. It would be destroyed or thrown out long before he got back.
Hagrid frowned slightly, but didn't seem to have an objection to that.
"Quite right," Graham said immediately. "Quite right, young sir."
Harry recognized the feather-weight and expansion charms as the same ones used on his bag and wallet from Gringotts and he thought both would be a good idea. "How do the multiple compartment trunks work?" he wondered.
"Ah, yes," Graham said excitedly. "Let me demonstrate." And he pulled a wand from his robe pocket and gave it a swish. One of the trunks lifted right off a nearby shelf and floated gracefully down to the floor near them. "You see here, there's four locks," he explained, gesturing to the line of locks along the front. "Each one opens a different compartment." He grabbed the set of keys attached to the trunk and sorted one of them out. He inserted it into the first lock, turned it once, and opened the lid to show a space about twice as big as it should have been. He then closed it up and put a second key in the second lock. This time, he opened it to a compartment that must have been the wardrobe by the hangers lined up on bars inside.
"If you don't want to carry around the keys, you can also get a trunk that only opens to a password. For those, you set a different password for each compartment."
Harry nodded appreciatively. "And how does the anti-theft one work?"
"Well," Graham grinned, getting even more excited by each question he could answer. "There's five levels of security warding. The basic one is your standard lock that comes on every trunk and resiliency warding to make sure it can't be pried or blasted open very easily. Each level over that includes more wards. A level one should keep out most students up to fifth or sixth year. Level two should keep out all but the most industrious of seventh years. Level three, you won't have to worry about anyone but fully trained wizards getting into. Level four should keep out most of your professors, and level five even an auror would be lucky to get into. All of the wards are, of course, passive. They won't let anyone in, but they won't harm anyone trying either. Perfectly safe."
Harry nodded. He had no idea what an auror was, but he assumed it to be some kind of wizarding career based on the context, and he didn't really need the details now. "What about the live animal storage? I don't have a pet yet, but I might get one before I graduate."
"Ah yes, and a very wise idea it is to have a proper way to transport them," Graham said enthusiastically. "Don't want them getting lost on the train or eaten by another familiar, right?" he winked. "The live animal storage compartments are reinforced to prevent your pet from scratching at the sides. They have fresh air enchantments, a built-in no-spill food and water dish, and stability charms, so that whatever's inside won't be jostled about when the trunk is moved. The only catch is that the trunk can't be shrunk while the animal is inside. Don't worry, there's a safety ward that will make it impossible to shrink while your little friend is inside so you don't have to worry about doing it by mistake."
"And what materials can the trunks be?"
"Ah, well, we have a wide selection of color and style choices. Dragon hide is the most secure because it naturally repels spells cast at it and it's extremely resistant to mundane wear and tear. You can get that in almost any color."
"Okay," Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So, if I wanted to get a trunk with black dragon hide, four compartments – standard, library, wardrobe, and live-animal storage – security level four, feather-weight, auto-sizing, and expanded, how much would that cost me?"
Graham gave it a moment of thought. "Oh, let's see. Round about six to seven hundred galleons, I suppose, depending on how large you want the compartments."
Harry sighed, "I don't have that much with me."
"Well, if you have a Gringotts vault, you can request the money from here," he suggested hopefully.
"How do I do that?" Harry wondered.
Graham's eyes sparkled at that. "Right this way, young sir," he said happily, leading Harry to the counter near the door. He rummaged through a drawer briefly and came up with a stack of cards about the size of postcards. "You see, my information is already on there. So all you have to do is write your vault number and the amount you want, then put your thumb on this little square. It'll take just one drop of blood and the card will automatically go to Gringotts. They'll determine that it's authentic and send the requested amount right over."
"That's handy," Harry smiled. "I think I'll take that trunk then."
Graham's smile warmed even further as he pulled out a form and began filling in information. "Now, you can set the size of the compartments individually. The standard size for a wardrobe compartment is one meter by two so that your robes can hang freely inside."
"Can I get that expanded further later if I want?"
"Of course. It's about a half hour job. You can bring the trunk by whenever you want."
"Okay, then the standard is good for now."
"Good, good," he murmured while he marked something on the paper. "Now the live animal compartment is a minimum of one meter, though depending on the size and breed of your pet, you might want something a little larger."
Harry thought about Rhast all curled up in a one meter space and tried not to snicker. "Maybe one meter by two," he said thoughtfully.
"All right then. The library is made of a series of shelves that you can organize by label or you can just tap your wand to cycle through them. The standard library compartment holds two hundred books – depending on their size, of course – but we can go as many as a thousand if you like."
"Well, seeing as this is going to last me all seven years at Hogwarts, I think I'll go with a thousand." He could definitely see himself filling most of that in seven years.
He then set his general storage compartment at one by two meters, and chose silver corner brackets and accents to go with the black dragon hide.
"Well then, that comes out to six hundred sixty seven galleons," Graham said at last, "but I'll give you a discount for such a substantial order. So, we'll say six hundred fifty."
"Instead of a discount," Harry said thoughtfully as he looked around, "How about just including one of these shoulder bags?" He pointed to one that cost twenty galleons and claimed a space of one cubic meter and a feather-weight charm.
"Ah, excellent choice, young sir. Excellent choice. I can certainly do that. That bag there is designed for students. You see that circle on the flap? After you're sorted, just touch it with your wand and speak the name of your House and it'll be decorated with the appropriate crest."
"I'll take it," Harry nodded.
Graham passed over the bag and headed into the back to modify a pre-made trunk to his exact specifications. Harry filled out the form requesting money from his vault while he waited. When he pressed his thumb to the square, there was a tiny, momentary sting, and then a tiny drop of red was visible on the card. Not a second later, it just vanished.
"Not sure yeh shoulda spent so much, Harry," Hagrid said cautiously.
"It should last me a long time," Harry pointed out. "It's not like I'll have to buy another trunk anytime soon, after all."
Hagrid still looked a little concerned, but he let it go.
A bag of gold then appeared on the counter right where the card had vanished. Harry opened it curiously to find the inside expanded, and he found himself wondering how much the goblins charged for a fee for doing this. He'd have to ask next time.
They waited another ten minutes before Graham came back out with a very nice-looking black trunk. "Just need to put your initials on the front," he smiled, holding his wand over the blank little silver plaque.
"Oh. H.J.P."
The man tapped the plaque, and the letters formed elegantly as black engravings. Graham smiled at it, then started slightly and focused on Harry again. "You're not…"
Harry sighed, "I reckon, I am. Thank you, Mr. Luggin. You've been very helpful," he said while the man was staring with wide eyes and silently mouthing Harry Potter.
Graham pulled himself together shortly and showed Harry how to work the auto-shrinking feature. Apparently, you just had to tap your wand on the trunk and say "shrink" or "restore".
So, with his new trunk tucked neatly into his pocket, Harry followed Hagrid back out and this time to the bookstore. He could hardly contain himself when he got inside. He had no idea what he wanted to look at first and had to fight the irrational urge to try to look at everything at once. He found his school books first, as they were all together on one rack and marked for "first years". After that, he wandered away from Hagrid and searched through the stacks as quickly as he could. He wanted to learn about everything, but he recognized the fact that he wouldn't understand most of it anyway. Besides, he was sure that Hogwarts had a library where he could learn about most of this stuff.
So, with an effort, he focused on finding books that explained things about the magical world. Most of them were on a shelf marked for muggleborns. He ended up getting twelve extra books, which he tucked into the shelves of his library compartment after paying for them. He could hardly wait to get a chance to read them. They should explain everything from the war against Voldemort to Quidditch to Hogwarts to wizarding culture and etiquette. He'd even gotten one book on the Ministry and wizarding law.
After the bookstore, there were more stops. Stationery turned out to be feather quills and rolls of parchment. Happily, he found a shelf dedicated to muggleborns in that store too, and a book explaining how to properly use a quill, which were frankly making him a little nervous. He also bought self-inking quills, which he assumed was what Hagrid had used last night. Trying to carry around and use tiny jars of ink just didn't seem very convenient. He also got metal-tipped quills so he wouldn't have to worry about sharpening them all the time, which an inquiry about the tiny knives on display had informed him was necessary with standard quills.
They got his cauldron and scales, knives, and stirring rods, and ladles at a potions supply store, then went to the apothecary for ingredients. After that, they got his telescope and gloves.
Finally…
"Just yer wand left. Oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Harry blanked his face as he felt himself tense. "You don't have to," he objected stiffly. He'd never had a birthday present before. Well, not that he could remember. He still wasn't comfortable with Hagrid acting like he was an old friend just because he'd known a couple of people Harry couldn't even remember.
"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. And 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'."
Harry blanched slightly at the memory of Rhast gulping down that post owl this morning. "Oh, I don't know, Hagrid. I'm not much of a bird person…"
"Nonsense, Harry," Hagrid dismissed at once. "Yeh need summat ter put in that compartmen' in yer trunk, now don' yeh?"
Harry contained a wince. He didn't want Hagrid to wonder about his getting a trunk with an animal compartment, but not wanting an animal. Still, he couldn't really put an owl in there with Rhast. Not if he wanted to get two animals back out, at least.
So, he reluctantly followed the jolly giant into Eeylops Owl Emporium and chose the largest, meanest looking owl that he could find, hoping that Rhast wouldn't eat her. She was snowy white with intelligent yellow eyes that seemed to glare constantly in the direction of the invisible snake. God, it was going to be impossible keeping both of them in his tiny room at the Dursleys'… And it wasn't like he had anyone to write to anyway.
He thanked Hagrid as they left the shop, trying to keep all the resentment out of his tone. It wasn't Hagrid's fault, after all, that his generosity wasn't wanted.
They finally made it to the wand shop after that. It was easily the creepiest of all the places they'd been today. It looked run-down and filthy. The air seemed somehow… thicker in here, like every breath was making him feel more alert, but also slightly light-headed and a bit jittery. He couldn't decide if it was a good feeling or a bad feeling. The back of his neck prickled and he tensed.
"Good afternoon." Harry flinched at the sound of the soft voice, but Hagrid almost fell off the spindly stool in the corner judging by the crashing and scrambling noise behind him.
An old man stepped out of the shadows behind the counter. He had wide, pale eyes that shone like moons through the gloom of shop.
"Hello," Harry said cautiously.
"Ah yes," the man nodded to himself. "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."
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was becoming painfully clear that he probably cared less about his parents than the entire rest of the magical world. They were dead. He had no memory of them, and it was their fault that he'd ended up with the Dursleys - their fault for dying and their fault for trusting Dumbledore. He didn't want to think about them.
Harry stopped zoning out of what the old man was saying when he came to stand so close to Harry that they were nearly nose to nose. Harry leaned back slightly and fought the urge to back up.
"And that's where…"
Mr. Ollivander reached out and touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly, ignoring the fact that Harry had flinched from his touch and given into the urge to take a few steps back, nearly putting his back to the wall. "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 Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," Hagrid said gruffly.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" he said, suddenly stern.
"Er… yes, they did, yes," Hagrid replied nervously. "I've still got the pieces though," he added brightly.
"But you don't use them?" Ollivander asked sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid said quickly, but Harry noticed that he gripped his pink umbrella as he said it.
Ah. That explained a lot. Apparently, he'd been expelled – from Hogwarts? – and they'd snapped his wand because he wasn't supposed to use magic anymore, but he'd put them back together in that umbrella? Harry couldn't wait to start reading his books so that he could make sense of all of this.
"Hmmm," Ollivander said somewhat doubtfully. "Well now… Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
Harry frowned uncertainly, "How would I know that?"
"Your dominant arm," Ollivander pressed.
"Oh. Well, I'm right handed…"
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. As he measured, he kept up a constant monologue. "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 same. And, of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Harry swallowed uneasily as he realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing it on its own. 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, much to Harry's relief.
"Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Harry took the wand cautiously and felt somewhat silly as he waved it awkwardly, but Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.
Another soon replaced it, though Harry didn't bother paying attention to the type that it was as it didn't mean anything to him. He hardly raised that one to wave it before it too was snatched away.
He very soon found himself getting annoyed with the process as he was unable to tell what Ollivander was looking for. A few dozen worthless attempts later, Ollivander looked more thrilled than ever.
"Tricky customer, eh? 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."
Harry took the wand irritably, only to frown when he felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He gave it a sharp wave and a shower of green and black sparks exploded out of the end. Harry started badly at the unexpected display, but Hagrid was whooping and clapping and Ollivander was exclaiming, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"
"What's curious?" Harry snapped, beginning to lose his sense of humor.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said, fixing Harry with a pale stare. "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 its brother… Why, its brother gave you that scar."
Harry frowned and fought the urge to rub his forehead.
"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."
"So my wand is like Voldemort's?" Harry asked, mostly just because he couldn't resist proving that he could be named.
Ollivander started at the sound of the name and gave Harry a very intense stare. "Indeed it is, Mr. Potter."
When they left the wand shop, the late afternoon sun hung low in the sky. They made their way out of Diagon Alley and back into London. Harry barely noticed the way people stared at them – thanks to Hagrid's massive size, no doubt – as they walked down the street or rode the underground. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even realize they'd arrived at Paddington station until Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.
"Got time fer a bit to eat before yer train leaves," he said.
They sat down at a small café and Harry got a hamburger and chips.
"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet."
Harry gave it a moment of thought as he tried to figure out how to express his concerns. "Everyone thinks I'm special," he said finally. "They all expect things from me, but… I can't even remember the night I got this scar."
Hagrid leaned across the table and smiled softly. "Don' you worry, Harry. Yeh'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts. Yeh'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."
Harry nodded, but he remained pensive. He was very willing to bet that no one in the wizarding world wanted to see the real him. Being himself would probably be the very worst thing that he could do. He really wasn't a very nice person. He'd never had any reason to be nice. Never had anyone he'd dare to trust. Didn't want anyone, come to think of it. Rhast was enough. Trying to trust anyone else would just be opening himself up to be let down.
No, everyone already seemed to know who Harry was, whether they'd never met him before or known his parents or seen him as a baby. They all seemed to know him. Or think they did. The best thing that he could do was prove them right. He just had to figure out who they thought he was.
"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," Hagrid 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."
Finally left alone, Harry leaned back in his seat and ran his fingers lightly over the invisible snake on his lap. He had a lot of thinking to do in the next month.
When the train arrived in Surrey, Harry was finally pulled out of his thoughts about Hogwarts with thoughts of the Dursleys. His hands started to tremble the moment that he thought of them. They were going to be so angry. He was sure that he was in for the beating of his life, and he had no idea if he was even going to survive it.
The fifteen streets he had to walk from the train station to Privet Drive didn't seem long enough and Harry walked very slowly. By the time he got back to the house, he was shaking all over. Then he realized that all the lights were off.
Harry relaxed slightly. Apparently, they'd already gone to bed. That gave him a stay of execution until the morning, at least. He went to the door and wasn't surprised to find it locked. This was far from the first time he'd been locked out overnight. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry went around to the back of the house to sleep in the little tool shed like he usually did when he got locked out. It wasn't until he was closed inside that he switched on the little light and took his trunk out of his pocket. He enlarged it and was about to open it to the library compartment when he had an idea.
He opened the animal compartment instead and found a ladder going down into the small space. He hesitated only a moment before climbing down inside. He wished now that he'd made this compartment larger, but this was only a little smaller than his cupboard.
After setting the passwords onto the compartments, he grabbed a couple books from the library and went back down into the animal compartment with Rhast. He left his new owl in the shed since there didn't seem to be any reason to crowd them further. He wished that he had his old mat to sit on, or a blanket, but at least he felt like he was safe for the night. That made it worth it.
He chose The Wizarding World for the Inquisitive Muggleborn: A General Introduction – and that was a mouthful of a title – to read first. At the speed that he could read, he made it three-quarters of the way through the book before he finally gave in to sleep.
A/N: And there's chapter 2. Chapter length for this story will mostly be between 5 and 10 thousand words, though I'll try to make sure they're at least 6,000 unless the content really has other things to say about it. I will also try to update on Thursdays from here on out until I run out of chapters. I'm trying to stay ahead of it, but my health is not so good, so I can't make any promises.
Thank you to everyone who has favorited, and followed this story so far. Your enthusiasm has been greatly appreciated and has made me very excited to continue with it. To those of you who take the time to review, double everything I just said. I love you guys!
