Chapter three - Preparations for school

The feeling of the teleportation was strangely different, now that he was pulled along by McGonagall instead of doing it himself. It felt strangely constricting, like being pulled through a narrow tube. As they landed, he stumbled forward and nearly dropped his few belongings, thrown off by the different experience, and McGonagall had to tighten her grip on his hand to steady him.

"Careful now mr. Potter. Side-along apparition is quite uncomfortable, but you would do well to grow used to it. It will be quite some time before you can apparate yourself. Just a moment, I'll make you a temporary bag for your belongings."

Harry threw the taller woman a confused look, wondering at that, as she made three small flicks with her wand? Was apparition different from the teleporting he had been doing himself? It certainly felt different, but from McGonagall's explanation, that seemed to be because he was 'side-alonging'. McGonagall evidently noticed his look, because she gave him a slight smile. In the meanwhile, a rock had risen a small bit into the air and transformed into a child-sized leather backpack. Harry gaped

"Not to worry mr. Potter, I can infer from the situation we just left, that you have not been told much of anything of the Magical World. That will have to be rectified, but it won't be now, and in the meanwhile, your level of ignorance can quite easily be forgiven."

Harry hunched his shoulders and looked away. Not only had the seemingly important woman seen the way his family treated him, but he should apparently also already know alot about the world he now found himself in. He didn't like that feeling, he hated that feeling. He started at feeling a hand on his shoulder and turned his head to look back at McGonagall. She had crouched down beside him and was now looking at him with a sympathetic look.

"Mr. Potter… Harry, the way you've been treated until now is abhorrent and wrong. That you haven't been told anything about the world you should have grown up in is a travesty. And unfortunately, I can't do much more at the present moment, than remove you from those monstrous people and help you gather knowledge of this world. But at the very least, I can guarantee you that the place you find yourself in now, and the people you will meet here, are very, very different from where you've been."

She squeezed his shoulder, then handed him the backpack and Harry took some comfort from her words. He had never really been allowed to talk to other people. The most contact he'd had with people other than the Dursleys had been people at his school, and he had been expressly forbidden from talking about his homelife with them. He had only tried once, and the beating he'd gotten from Vernon had been as bad as the one he'd gotten after the adder snake.

McGonagall was still crouching in front of him, and he realised she was probably waiting for a response. So he gave her a small nod and a tiny smile and she seemed to take that as good enough. She righted herself, and extended her hand to him again. Harry quickly put his stuff into the backpack and shrugged it on before taking her hand.

"We'll be going in here, it's called The Leaky Cauldron, and it's a very popular and well known pub in Magical Britain. It's also, more importantly for us, the midstop for access to Diagon Alley from the muggle world."

Her exposition gave him something to focus on besides what had just happened and what she's witnessed. As he looked at the small smile she directed at him, it was probably for that exact reason she was telling him about the place. He gave a nod and McGonagall started towards the front door.

A wall of noise greeted them as they entered, a good deal of people apparently having the time to sit around in a pub in the early hours on a friday. Harry looked around, starting at a column of filled glasses and mugs that floated through the air and distributed themselves among the patrons. An owl, this one somewhat small and nearly all black, flew through the middle of the open floor space and landed on a bartop with an elderly bald man standing behind it.

"Ah, Minerva, good morning. Bit too early for Ogden's Firewhiskey, no?"

The man had a jolly voice, and seemed to know McGonagall well. Harry made a small note of the fact that McGonagall was seemingly fond of something called Ogden's Firewhiskey and drank it here enough for it to be well known.

"Apologies, Tom. I'm on some business for Hogwarts today, so I don't have the time."

Tom nodded and gave Harry a curious look, before his eyes widened with surprise and wonder.

"Good lord, is - is this the Harry Potter?"

The man, Tom, seemed about to continue, before McGonagall waved the hand not occupied by Harry's to quiet him down.

"Tom! Not now! We'll both be back later, and you'll get the chance then, but for now please be so kind as to keep this to yourself. The boy has already been through quite enough today and hasn't caught up to everything just yet."

Tom glanced between Harry and McGonagall with an odd look on his face, before nodding and waving McGonagall on. Harry wondered what the deputy headmistress had meant. Obviously, he wasn't nearly up to speed about the magical world, but that sounded more like something specific to him. And how had Tom known his name? And what he looked like?

"Very well, wouldn't want to overwhelm the young lad. You go on through quickly, and we'll pick this up later."

McGonagall gave the barkeep a nod, then gave Harry a gentle tug towards a door that seemed to lead back outside in the opposite direction from where they'd entered. As they stepped out, Harry looked around the small back alley. It had a couple of trash cans, some trash on the ground that nobody had bothered to pick up, and a brick wall at the opposite end. A dead end.

"Not the most tasteful area, especially compared to the rest of the Leaky Cauldron but occasionally muggles manage to enter without notice, so the proper entrance to Diagon has been hidden."

Harry looked questionably up at the taller witch, who had drawn her wand and proceeded to tap the bricks on the end wall in a seemingly random pattern. Suddenly, the bricks seemed to vibrate, then shift as they formed an archway tall enough for two grown men standing on top of each other and go through without having to bow down.

On the other side, a long street of cobblestone was flanked by old wooden buildings. The signs Harry could see had names like Amanuensis Quills, Eeylops Owl Emporium and Flourish and Blotts. They were apparently shops. Harry looked around, his head on a swivel, as McGonagall led him through the street.

"First things first, mr. Potter. We'll need to go to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Your parents had both a Potter family vault, their own personal vault as well as a vault for your trust fund. Until you reach the age of majority at 17, you'll only have access to the trust fund, but as you'll be going to Hogwarts, the tuition of which has already been paid by your parents, it will only have to cover your preparations for school and the occasional fancy."

As McGonagall explained that he was also rich, of all things, they moved down through the street towards a tall marble building that towered over every nearby building. It looked to be crooked, stone columns leaning alternatively left and right, but it gave a strange sense of being immovably solid. Harry frowned at the differing impressions he was getting.

"The bank was founded, and is still run, by goblins. They're a prickly people, but good with money, and the Gringotts Bank is one of the safest places to store and protect your belongings, together with Hogwarts."

McGonagall continued to tell Harry about the bank as they climbed a white set of stairs to a set of tall and dark metal doors. Two goblins stood on either side of the open doors, long metal polearms in hand. They barely even looked at him and McGonagall as they stepped past the doorway and entered a vast marble hall, filled with goblins at high counters and witches and wizards going about their business.

Above, a massive chandelier glittered with golden lights, and the sound of clinking coins and gemstones filled the hall, together with the low murmur of people talking quietly. Harry and McGonagall walked up to a free counter, where a goblin wearing a black suit with grey stripes was using an eyepiece to look at a gemstone of a deep blue colour.

"Greetings teller, mr. Harry Potter would like access to his trust fund vault for the purpose of withdrawing school funds. This is the appropriate key."

As she spoke, McGonagall withdrew a small, golden key from somewhere on her belt and handed it over the counter to the goblin. The goblin had stopped looking at the gemstone and was now giving them both a slight sneer, exposing an array of sharp pointed teeth. Reaching out to take the key from the deputy headmistress, Harry saw the goblin had long pale fingers, with fingernails that were filed sharp.

"Not to worry, Harry. The key has been in the keeping of a trusted family associate, but when we're done here, I'll hand it over to you and explain how to keep it safe."

Harry looked away from the goblin to look McGonagall in the eye, as she leaned down to quietly talk to him. He gave her a nod, then looked back up as the goblin spoke.

"Everything seems to be in order. A goblin will be with you shortly to escort you to the vault."

The voice was surprisingly deep and gravely for a being even shorter than him, but Harry supposed that with magic in play, such things shouldn't really surprise him. As they waited for a goblin to come show them to his vault, McGonagall told Harry about various small things to do with the hall and bank, and how money worked in Magical Britain. Harry was so deep in thought over Knuts, Sickles and Galleons, and their stupidly complicated exchangerates, that he didn't noticed the arriving goblin until it spoke.

"Greetings, my name is Griphook and I will accompany you to mr. Harry Potter's vault."

Harry jumped slightly, then flushed as both Griphook and McGonagall turned to look at him. The goblin just shook his head and waved for them to follow him, as McGonagall gave him a small nod of encouragement as they did so. Griphook led them to a doorway behind one of the lines of tellers, then down a set of stone stairs, the walls changing from beautiful white marble, to rough grey stone. Harry shuttered as the air changed from a comfortable warmth to a drafty and damp cold.

They came out into a vast cavern, stretching far below into a darkness Harry couldn't see through. Looking up, it also extended up far above, much farther than should be possible. A rail, almost like a roller coaster's, curved up beside the platform the staircase had ended in, seemingly floating without support. A cart, bronze in coller, with leather seating and exposed gears and metal rods at the front, came rolling up to stop in front of them by itself. Harry looked to McGonagall, but the elderly witch simply waved him into the self-driving cart before following him in. Griphook took a seat at the front, gripping a lever with both hands before turning his head to look at them.

"Please keep all limbs inside the cart at all times, if you wish to keep hold of them. Stops at other vaults than the one requested is not permitted, nor are you allowed to disturb me during the ride."

The goblins' voice was dry and rote, clearly repeating a speech practised and uttered countless times. Harry simply nodded, recognising that he was the one the speech was directed to. McGonagall didn't react at all, and soon, they were thundering off into the cave system, far faster than Harry would have expected. Gripping tightly to a small handrail in the side of the cart, Harry gave a loud laugh, finding the speed and sharp turns exhilarating and fun. He cast a look to the witch beside him, only to find McGonagall slightly green in the face and clutching her handrail with an almost panicked ferocity.

With a jolt, they stopped suddenly in front of a pair of dark-blue metal doors, seemingly decorated with various bronze gears, tubes and rods. Had he known of the concept, he would have called it distinctly steampunk-ish. As they stepped out of the cart, McGonagall took a deep breath before sighing, then turned to Harry.

"Enjoyed that, did you?"

Harry gave a broad grin and nodded.

"That was amazing! I'm already looking forward to the trip back."

McGonagall patted him on the shoulder, then turned him towards the door, where Griphook stood with his vault key, looking at them with distinct irritation. Seeing them turn their attention to them, the goblin grunted and turned to the door, sticking the key into a small keyhole and turning it. A heavy clank resounded before the goblin raised his hand and carefully ran the tip of his index finger down the seam where the two doors met. A low, ominous hiss resounded from the door, then it opened, revealing multiple piles of coins.

Harry gaped at the riches. Front and centre, a pile of gold coins, as tall as he was, and six times as wide if he laid down on the floor, glimmered with promise of vast wealth. Dotted around the vault, three piles of similar size glimmered silver, and five with bronze. Harry swallowed thickly.

"Remember mr. Potter, that this money has to last all of your school years. That means the next seven years of holidays, trips and equipment. Room and board is included with your Hogwarts tuition, but your living arrangements during the summer have to be sorted out as well."

The voice of the deputy headmistress distracted Harry from his money, and he turned and gave her a nod. Obviously, he would have to live somewhere during the time he couldn't be at school and any potential family would be placed with would prefer to spend his money on his expenses, rather than their own.

Taking a couple of steps forwards, he took a handful of Galleons. How much was he supposed to take..?

"I would suggest mr. Potter, to take approxomatly 20 Galleons, 100 Sickles and 50 Knuts. Not every shop will accept only Galleons when shopping, and having some change for smaller purchases will be convenient to you and helpful to cashiers. For any purchases larger than 20 Galleons in total, a check is generally preferred to coins. You'll be able to pick one up at one of the tellers in the main bankinghall."

Harry nodded along to McGonagall's explanation, shovelling the approximate amount into the backpack she had magicked up for him. Griphook was silent throughout, standing still as a statue by the entrance to the vault. Finishing with the literal pile of money, Harry returned to the cart with McGonagall and Griphook, and then they were zooming along again to his delighted laughter.


Harry practically skipped down the street, McGonagall hot on his heels, as he neared the last and most important stop on the shopping list. The wand shop. It was a narrow and somewhat shabby looking building, with peeling golden lettering that read 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.'

Harry had spent the last couple of hours buying everything from school robes, to cauldrons, to a variable mountain of books, including but not limited to, school books, books on common wizarding customs, recent history and events, as well as his trunk and a proper, magical backpack rather than the one McGonagall had made from a cobblestone.

As such, his chequebook, which was actually a tube made of some kind of lacquered wood, with a thin slit that the cheque would come out of, had seen extensive use. It was simple to use, all he had to do was tap it on a small display to get a cheque for the exact amount that the shop could then take to the bank for a direct transfer. Which meant he still had the majority of the coins he had taken from his vault earlier. McGonagall had suggested that he use it to find a familiar, a loyal and constant animal companion, but he hadn't been able to find one he liked.

The memory of his dear friend the adder snake was still very prominent in his thoughts. He had seen some snakes in the animal shop, but that had felt too much like replacing his friend. The closest he had come was a beautiful snowy owl he had stumbled across in Eeylops Owl Emporium, but he had still been too uncertain and torn up from the encounter with the snakes, and the realisation that he would essentially be replacing his friend. McGonagall had understood, and they had decided to go get his wand instead.

And so, the excitement of finally getting his hands on a genuinely magical object, and the prospect of doing actual magic had pushed the grief and confusion that had been dragged to the fore away again. And such it was that a very excitable Harry Potter, and an exasperated and very well hidden amused McGonagall, entered Ollivanders wand shop.

The inside of the wand shop was exactly as Harry had expected. Tall, dusty shelves filled with slim rectangular boxes reached from the floor to the ceiling, nearly 10 feet above. Multiple rolling ladders, multiple for each shelf, were secured to rails at the top of the shelves. A small counter stood at the front of the shop, along with two small flimsy chairs against the nearest wall, the only one not occupied by a shelf.

Harry looked around in wonder, practically able to feel the many wands humming with potential power. The whole shop smelled like a combination of a dusty library and a woodworkers workshop.

"Ah, if it isn't Minerva McGonagall. 9½ inches, fir wood and dragon heartstring core. Stiff, and very well suited to transfiguration. What brings you to my shop today?" The voice was old and somewhat wheesy, the owner sounding like they had bad lungs. It came from the opposite side of McGonagall from where Harry stood, the owner blocked by her.

"I'm not on personal business, Garrick. I'm accompanying mr. Potter here for his first shopping trip before school starts the week after next."

Harry stepped past McGonagall to have a look at who was presumably Garrick Ollivander. As soon as he was within view, the man's silvery eyes snapped to Harry's own emerald ones. The man looked old, with white skin and frizzy grey hair. He had deep wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, looking as if he spent long periods of time frowning in concentration. He wore a dusty brown robe over a white, also dusty, shirt with the top buttons open.

"Ah yes. Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Harry's chest fluttered with excitement and nervousness at the mention of his mother.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Harry's eyes teared up slightly. He had never known anything of his parents, the Dursleys simply naming them 'drunken freaks not to be talked about' and then giving him a beating the one time he'd asked. To know even this much, that his mother had presumably been good at charmwork, and his father's transfiguration, was a treasure dear to his heart. He noticed that the store had grown quiet and that both McGonagall and Ollivander were looking at him.

"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion, "for telling me that about my parents."

Ollivander blinked slowly, the action seeming more out of surprise than an actual need to do it, and Harry realised he hadn't actually seen him blink yet.

"You're quite welcome, young man. It wasn't much."

"It was to me."

Both Ollivander and McGonagall seemed slightly taken aback at that, before the witch swallowed a bit thickly and changed the subject, as Ollivander somewhat awkwardly shuffled in between the shelves filled with wands.

"Yes, well, we came to get mr. Potter a wand, of course."

"Of course, let's see here… 12 inches, mahogany and unicorn tail hair, reasonably subtle."

As Harry gave the first wand to try, by Ollivanders instruction to give it a wave, Harry realised that finding the right wand for him would take quite a while. Or so he assumed, based on the vast amount of flowers that had sprouted from every bit of exposed wood in the shop.