(This Fan Fic begins at Harry's first day in the wizarding world, during
his visit to Diagon Alley, the missing beginning being the first few
chapters of the Sorceror's Stone)
Harry Potter could hardly believe his eyes when he had first entered Diagon Alley. His back was still stinging slightly from the many hardy pats he had received as he passed through the Leaky Cauldron, and his hand was white and stiff from being repeatedly wrung by the eager wizards and witches in the pub. He felt it all in wonder as he walked around, staring at buildings claiming all sorts of magical merchandise. (Niffler toenails 'They'll find you gold!', Hellebore Powder 'For all your basic potion needs!', and The Nimbus Broomsticks 'Best Broom for your Sporting-Good Needs!') Harry felt his heart leap into his throat, pounding hard, yelling at him, 'This is it! This is where you belong!'. But another voice was inside him, churning his stomach, whispering, 'But do you FEEL magical?' Harry couldn't deny that despite it's quiet nature, he was far more focused and concerned with this second voice. He didn't feel one bit magical, when it came down to it. Sure, he had had a few odd moments that might be explained away by magic, but none of it had been him doing it. But then again, maybe this made him extra magical? "Yes," said another little hissing voice in his head, "I bet that others have to have loads of practice to talk to snakes, or fly onto rooftops. But ME...I did it without even KNOWING. I wonder how many can do THAT."
Harry could hardly believe he was thinking this. That wasn't his voice, he was sure! But then again, he felt that small unmagical part of him ebb away, and a new feeling flooding in. He wasn't just magical, maybe. He might be powerful. Though he wasn't sure whether he believed it, Harry enjoyed toying with this idea. He would like to be powerful. Get back at Dudley and his gang for everything they had ever done to him. Make Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon regret that they had ever locked him in that cupboard. But then, there was always the question of how? Harry didn't want to hurt anybody, surely. But the idea of revenge was too tempting to let go.
At last, however, Harry realized that they hadn't stopped in one of
the stores. And he realized why.
"Hagrid?"
"Yeah, Harry?"
"How am I supposed to pay for all these things?"
"Well that's easy, Harry," said Hagrid, smiling down at him. "We're headed to Gringotts, the wizarding bank. You're parents left you a pretty bit o'money when they died, bless'em," he added fondly. "Yep, gonna get your money there. And another little bit o' Ogwarts business, too."
Harry looked at Hagrid, eager to hear what this was, but Hagrid was now watching some sort of magical creatures in a nearby store window, which resembled a cross between a gila monster and a ferret, and would let off a little zap of electric when touched. Harry couldn't help grinning at the things, and forgot about the Hogwart's business at the bank. Probably nothing interesting, anyway. It was a bank! Harry couldn't have been more wrong. Gringotts was ulike any bank he had ever seen. It was large, with golden hallways, and strange creatures that appeared to be the tellers. "What are they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, his eyes following on the short, long-nosed, wrinkled things. "Them're goblins, Harry," said Hagrid knowingly, "Don' know about'em meself, but they're perfect for dis work. Don' wanta cross a goblin, Harry."
And as Harry watched the creatures, he agreed.
When they got up to the desk, a goblin in a pince-nez peered over at them."Yes?" it asked in an surprisingly oily voice.
"We're here to withdraw from Harry's account. An' pick up a little somethin' in vault you-know-what!" breathed Hagrid, eyes darting around the room, as he slid an envelope across the table, bearing the same coat of arms that had been on Harry's letter, and a tarnished brass key. The goblin nodded, and called forward another one named Griphook. "Show these gentlemen to their vaults," he said, and waved forward the next in line.
The goblin named Griphook smiled at them, and beckoned them forward to follow him into a room in the back. Harry was expecting to see rows of safety boxes, or something, as he suspected he would find in a normal bank, but was surprised to see a cart on a track, like you would see heading down into mines. "Climb in!" said Griphook, pushing Harry forward with a nudge. "S'all right, Harry," said Hagrid reassuringly. "The only way ter get there."
Harry thought about being mad with Hagrid for a moment. He wasn't afraid! He knew it was alright. He just wasn't fond of the idea of crawling into a mine cart for no apparent reason. It felt silly. But he did so anyway, and with a tight squeeze, the goblin, Harry, and Hagrid were all in. "Here we go," said the goblin, and gripped the brake with one-long fingered, bony hand. And before Harry knew what had hit him, he was knocked backward from the force of the suddenly speeding cart, the wind knocked out of him, and trying desperately to get it back. He hadn't been expecting it. But nonetheless, "Brilliant!" he cried as they passed through caves, the scenery whipping past in a blur. And then the cart pulled to a sudden stop. "Mr. Potter's vault," said Griphook's high and gravely voice. "Key please," He said, holding out his hand. Hagrid handed it to him, looking slightly green around the ears. Griphook put it in the slot, and Harry heard a series of locks clicking inside, and the vault door flew open. He stared in awe at the riches set before him. There were huge golden coins, silver, and small bronze ones, too. As he stood opened mouthed, Hagrid came over and clapped him gently on the shoulder, Harry's knees almost being forced to buckle. "This is it. Wizard's gold. And it's all yours."
Harry walked uneasily forward, with a money sack in his hands, supplied by Griphook, and began to fill it with some gold, silver, and bronze pieces. "See here, Harry," said Hagrid. "This big gold one's called a Galleon. The silver ones are Sickles, and the tiny bronze ones are Knuts," he said, pointing to each and attempting explain the overly complicated value system. Harry looked at him imploringly. "Why don't you just use notes, or a system based on tens?" Hagrid chuckled at the idea. "Now why would we wanta do tha'?"
They entered the cart again, and were so speeding off, towards the Hogwart's vault. Harry's interest rose again when they stopped. "Vault 713," croaked the goblin. "Stand back," he said, holing his hands out importantly as Harry approached to get a better look. And with his long finger, the Goblin stroked it down the vault door. The door quivered slightly, and then the door began to melt away. Harry gasped. "If anybody but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they be sucked inside with no way out." He grinned. "How often do you check to see if someone's in there?" asked Harry, amazed. "Oh, about every ten years." In the middle of the vault, which Harry had suspected to be filled with something very large and impressive with all the fuss that seemed to surround it, was a small, somewhat grubby looking package. Hagrid hurried forward, took it, and placed it in one of his many pockets. "Best not be tellin anyone 'bout this, Harry" he said.
And they set off in the cart for the topside again. Harry could hear Hagrid next to him muttering,"I don' like this, O! I really don' like this!"
Once they had left the bank, Harry went around and visited several stores to buy his books, cauldron, telescope, and potion ingredients, all of them filled with extraordinarily intriguing items, which he was strongly tempted to buy. "Now," said Hagrid, "ya can' go spendin; all dat at once! You have some yeas ahead o' ya!" Harry nodded, plagued with the idea of having to ask his Aunt and Uncle for money to buy a cauldron. It wasn't pleasant. "Here ya are!" said Hagrid, ushering Harry forward to a store titled, 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. "You go in there an' get your robes. I'll be off a bit....have some business at the pub." And he hurried off, leaving Harry to himself.
Harry walked in, and immediately was helped by a small, plump witch, with a measuring tape in hand anda tired smile on her face. "Hogwarts, dear? Go and stand over there, then, by the mirrors. I'll be with you in just a minute. We're fitting another one of your students just now." And she hurried off to a back room, apparently to get some more pins or fabric. Harry walked over to the mirror, and saw another bnoy, his age, standing there. The boy had white-blonde hair, and a sort of sneer on his face. Harry stood on the stool next to him, as the woman hurried out again, working at the other boy's, and another worker began taking is measurements. The white-haired boy looked over at him. "Hogwarts, too?" he asked. Harry nodded.
"It's my first year, too. I can't wait to go. Father says that I'm sure to be years ahead of the other students." He grinned, and Harry looked down at his feet, attempting not to meet the boy's eyes. He wondered if tis was true. "Yes, I'm very excited to be going. I can't wait for the sorting, either," he looked at Harry again, who this time looked up at him in interest, still not talking. "Yes," the boy said, "I do hope so much to be in Slytherin. All my family has been for centuries. I mean, I'm a shoo-in for it. But could you imagine if you got placed in Hufflepuff? I tell you, I'd pack my bags and leave the school in embarrassment." Now, Harry looked down again, and muttered something in a sort of uncommitted way. "So, are your parents, well, our sort?" asked the boy.
They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," said Harry, somewhat haughtily. "Indeed," said the blonde boy, eyeing Harry interestedly, who quickly smoothed his bangs to his forehead. "I don't think they should let the other sort in. Imagine, not even knowing about Hogwarts until they got the letter." Harry listened somewhat ashamed with how little he knew. Somewhere deep down, he almost felt that the boy was right. If this was what every other kid went through who hadn't known about it, it might be kinder to leave them in their own world. "Father thinks it's an outrage that first years can't have broomsticks. He's thinking about smuggling one in for me. He says that if I don't get picked for the Quidditch team, it'll be a crime."
Harry nodded again, without the slightest clue of what the boy was talking about. "Draco Malfoy," said the boy at last, holding out his hand. Harry reached out his own, and was about to introduce himself when he heard a rapping noise on the window outside. Hagrid was tapping on the window, pointing to two large ice cream cones in either hand. "Really, who is that?" asked Draco.
"Oh!" said Harry , finally glad he knew something, "that's Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" asked Draco, "Oh, yes I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant at the school, isn't he?"
Harry's face flushed, and he turned to look at the boy. "Hagrid's the groundskeeper. He's here with me."
"Oh," said the boy, eyes lashing slightly, but he continued in the same careless manner. "I see. Very well."
Harry looked at Draco, slightly stricken with his bluntness. "Dear," said the seamstress, "You're finished, now. Here are your robes. Pay at the front desk."
Harry hurried down and away from the mirrors and the boy and paid quickly, before running outside. He took one of the ice cream cones happily, and they ate it as they walked. "Well,," said Hagrid, after they had finished, "I 'spose we best be gettin' yer wand next."
Harry grinned and his stomach jumped excitedly. This was what he had been looking forward to. His wand.
They entered a shop called Ollivander's, which was filled with rows and rows of shelves holding boxes Harry presumed were wands. "Ello?" called Hagrid, ringing the bell on the front desk. "Ello?" he said, ringing it again.
"Yes?" said a man, who emerged eerily from the shadows, taking the bell away. "Oh," he said, spying Harry. "Oh, here to choose your wand, I presume, although, of course, " the man chuckled, "It is actually the wand the chooses the wizard." He turned away and fumbled in a drawer before turning around with a measuring tape in hand, and fixed a piercing stare with his electric blue eyes on Harry. "Yes, I've been expecting you, now. Hmm, I remember your parents wands," he said, suddenly snapping his fingers. The measuring tape jumped, and suddenly began taking Harry's measurements on its own. "Yes, yur mother's was 10 1/4 inches, willow, quite flexible, good for charm work, I believe. And yes, your father's was an exceptional wand, 11 inches, mahoghany, good for powerful spells and transfiguration. Yes, you resemble him extraordinarily," he said, looking Harry up and down, "Except your, eyes," he gazed uncomfortably into them. "You have your mother's eyes." He gazed off distatnly for a moment, and then said suddenly, taking notice of the measuring tape, which was currently measuring the length of his nostrils, "Stop! Stop! That's enough! Ah, here we go," he said as it dropped to the floor, and held out a wand to Harry. Harry took it, feeling stupid, not knowing what to do. "Use your wand hand to hold it," prompted Mr. Ollivander.
"Well, I'm right-handed if that's what you mean," said Harry, gripping it in his right-hand.
"Indeed, indeed. Now go on. Give it a wave!"
Harry held up the wand awkwardly, and brought it down in a sort of wave. Mr. Ollivander snatched it away almost immediately. "No, no, try this one. 12 inches, willow, dragon heartstring." Harry had barely lifted it before it was snatched away again. "Definitely not," said Ollivander, who was obviously waiting on something. "Here, oak, 13 inches, unicorn hair," he said, and soon snatched it away again as well.
And so it went, with the pile of used wands gaining, until Harry 's arm hurt, feeling as though he had tried every wand in the store. He wondered if it was normal to go through this when picking a wand, but judging by the odd expression of confusion on Hagrid's face, probably not. At last, Ollivander approached him with an expectant look on his face as he looked at the wand in his hands. "I wonder," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
He held out the wand to Harry, who took it, and immediately felt as though waving a wand were the most natural thing to do, and not something near as silly as he had first thought it to be. The wand felt warm in his fingers, and he gave it a wave. Red sparks flew out of the end, and he heard Hagrid sigh in relief, and Mr. Ollivander clap, before he took it back. "Yes, yes. This is your wand, Mr. Potter. Eleven inches, holly, with a phoenix feather core. How curious, though. Curious, curious..." he looked at him wonderingly, not sure if he wanted to know. But he asked anyway.
"Um, Mr. Ollivander? What's curious?" he asked.
Mr. Ollivander jumped, as though he had forgotten Harry was there, and busied himself with wrapping it again. "Oh, nothing. It's just that this wand.....The phoenix who gave the feather for this wand gave one other. Another, which gave you this scar," he said, pointing at Harry's scar as though Harry might not know where it was. Harry gasped, and he heard Hagrid begin to cough fitfully. "Yes," continued Mr. Ollivander. "I believe this means we can expect great things from you, Potter. For He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named did great things. Terrible! But great."
Harry paid for the wand, and hurried out of the store with Hagrid. The shopping was done now, and they made their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron, for a bit of rest. "Alrigh, there, Harry?" asked Hagrid after some time of silence. "Fine," said Harry, knowing perfectly well that he was not, but that this answer was expected of him. But hw could he be fine when he had just found out that the foulest wizard ever who had killed his own parents and tried to kill him, was somehow connected to him, it seemed. Through his wand. For hadn't Mr. Ollivander said it is the wand that chooses the wizard? Perhaps that meant that both ones had seen something in their owners, that the owners themselves could not...... "Hagrid?" said Harry at last, determined to sort out at least some of his confusion, "What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"Oh, yeah, where'd you hear about those?" And Harry related the story to him about the boy, Draco Malfoy, who he had met in Madame Malkin's.
"Codswallop," Hagrid said when Harry had finished. "I know his type. Think that only people from wizardin' families should be allowed ter go ter da school. But I tell ya, it don' matter, so long as ye got the talent. Some o' the best wizards and witched out dere are muggle-born!"
"I bet the others are way ahead of us, though," said Harry glumly.
"Firs' of all, Harry, yer not a Muggle-born. An' besides, ye'd be surprised. Dat's not really true. I mean, ye're all basically the same without a bit o'trainin'. I 'spose there might be a bit o' culture shock for'em, though."
Harry snorted. It was more than a might. "So, anyway, what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"Oh, dem? Dey're Houses at the school. Everybody gets put inter one. Dere's Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. The Hufflepuffs are kinda known fer being a bit dorky, or summat."
"I bet I'll be in there," muttered Harry.
"But if ye ask me,!" Hagrid continued, "Be'er Hufflepuff than Slytherin. Not a dark wizard ever come out 'oo wasn't in Slytherin. Dodgy folk, some o'em. Of course," he continued fairly, "Dey're not all bad. Jus' like all Hufflepuffs ain't dorks. If ye get put in any o' de Houses, then there'll be a reason, and no 'ard feelins anywheres for dat."
He grinned at Harry reassuringly, and stood up. "Ah,w ell den Harry, I best be goin soon. Oh! But before I do," he bent down to Harry and smiled eagerly, "What would ya like fer a birthday present?"
"Oh!" said Harry, startled, turning red. He had never gotten a real birthday gift before. "Erm, it's ok, really. I don't need anything."
"Nonsense!" said Hagrid, taking his shoulder and pulling him up. "Come on! I know what ye need! A pet! How's dat sound? Now, let's see.....don' wanna get ya a toad, they'd make fun'o'ya. Not a cat, either, dey make me eyes water. Ah! I know! 'll get ya an owl. Bloody useful creatures. 'Ere ye go," he said, directing Harry into Eyelops Owl Emporium. "Pick out anyone ya want!"
Harry was torn, not knowing what he wanted. On the one hand, there was a snowy owl with large amber eyes who looked pleasant. On the other, there was a fierce looking eagle owl, with a surprisingly black coat who looked somewhat intimidating and intelligent. He chose the eagle owl. It was surprisingly well behaved, perched on his soldier, and didn't put up any fight as he put it into its cage again and walked outside with it, Harry thanking Hagrid all the way. "It was no problem. I was happy ter get 'im fer yeh. E's a fine owl, 'Arry," said Hagrid, smiling at the owl. "Beautiful male, really. Nev'r seen one of his type dis pure black either. So what're ya gonna name 'im?"
Harry hadn't thought of this. He stroked the owl's dark plumage absentmindedly through the cage. Then he knew how he would pick. He reached into one of his bags, and pulled out a book, and flipped randomly open to a page. He skimmed down it, searching for a name. "I'll name him," he looked at the name again to be sure, "Blaise," he said finally. He put 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' back in his bag. He re-gripped Blaise's cage, and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, back into the Muggle World, with his items stashed away in bags and boxes, with Hagrid's help. At last, he arrived back at 4 Privet Drive. He turned to Hagrid, who had set Harry's things down outside the door. "Well, 'Arry, I'll be leaving ya here. Now, remember. Platform 9 an' 3/4, and de train leaves at 11 o'clock. All the information's right dere," he pointed to the piece of parchment gripped in Harry's hand. "Now, I hate ter be leavin' yeh, and all, 'specially with dis lot, but its me orders. See yeh at 'Ogwarts, 'Arry.
Harry smiled at Hagrid, and turned and starting picking his things up. He asked Hagrid to hand him his bag of books, but when he turned around, Hagrid was gone. Harry was sad to see he wasn't there, but as he brought in all the new and obviously magical items into the Dursley's house, he couldn't help but smile at them. Things around number four were going to change.
Harry Potter could hardly believe his eyes when he had first entered Diagon Alley. His back was still stinging slightly from the many hardy pats he had received as he passed through the Leaky Cauldron, and his hand was white and stiff from being repeatedly wrung by the eager wizards and witches in the pub. He felt it all in wonder as he walked around, staring at buildings claiming all sorts of magical merchandise. (Niffler toenails 'They'll find you gold!', Hellebore Powder 'For all your basic potion needs!', and The Nimbus Broomsticks 'Best Broom for your Sporting-Good Needs!') Harry felt his heart leap into his throat, pounding hard, yelling at him, 'This is it! This is where you belong!'. But another voice was inside him, churning his stomach, whispering, 'But do you FEEL magical?' Harry couldn't deny that despite it's quiet nature, he was far more focused and concerned with this second voice. He didn't feel one bit magical, when it came down to it. Sure, he had had a few odd moments that might be explained away by magic, but none of it had been him doing it. But then again, maybe this made him extra magical? "Yes," said another little hissing voice in his head, "I bet that others have to have loads of practice to talk to snakes, or fly onto rooftops. But ME...I did it without even KNOWING. I wonder how many can do THAT."
Harry could hardly believe he was thinking this. That wasn't his voice, he was sure! But then again, he felt that small unmagical part of him ebb away, and a new feeling flooding in. He wasn't just magical, maybe. He might be powerful. Though he wasn't sure whether he believed it, Harry enjoyed toying with this idea. He would like to be powerful. Get back at Dudley and his gang for everything they had ever done to him. Make Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon regret that they had ever locked him in that cupboard. But then, there was always the question of how? Harry didn't want to hurt anybody, surely. But the idea of revenge was too tempting to let go.
At last, however, Harry realized that they hadn't stopped in one of
the stores. And he realized why.
"Hagrid?"
"Yeah, Harry?"
"How am I supposed to pay for all these things?"
"Well that's easy, Harry," said Hagrid, smiling down at him. "We're headed to Gringotts, the wizarding bank. You're parents left you a pretty bit o'money when they died, bless'em," he added fondly. "Yep, gonna get your money there. And another little bit o' Ogwarts business, too."
Harry looked at Hagrid, eager to hear what this was, but Hagrid was now watching some sort of magical creatures in a nearby store window, which resembled a cross between a gila monster and a ferret, and would let off a little zap of electric when touched. Harry couldn't help grinning at the things, and forgot about the Hogwart's business at the bank. Probably nothing interesting, anyway. It was a bank! Harry couldn't have been more wrong. Gringotts was ulike any bank he had ever seen. It was large, with golden hallways, and strange creatures that appeared to be the tellers. "What are they, Hagrid?" asked Harry, his eyes following on the short, long-nosed, wrinkled things. "Them're goblins, Harry," said Hagrid knowingly, "Don' know about'em meself, but they're perfect for dis work. Don' wanta cross a goblin, Harry."
And as Harry watched the creatures, he agreed.
When they got up to the desk, a goblin in a pince-nez peered over at them."Yes?" it asked in an surprisingly oily voice.
"We're here to withdraw from Harry's account. An' pick up a little somethin' in vault you-know-what!" breathed Hagrid, eyes darting around the room, as he slid an envelope across the table, bearing the same coat of arms that had been on Harry's letter, and a tarnished brass key. The goblin nodded, and called forward another one named Griphook. "Show these gentlemen to their vaults," he said, and waved forward the next in line.
The goblin named Griphook smiled at them, and beckoned them forward to follow him into a room in the back. Harry was expecting to see rows of safety boxes, or something, as he suspected he would find in a normal bank, but was surprised to see a cart on a track, like you would see heading down into mines. "Climb in!" said Griphook, pushing Harry forward with a nudge. "S'all right, Harry," said Hagrid reassuringly. "The only way ter get there."
Harry thought about being mad with Hagrid for a moment. He wasn't afraid! He knew it was alright. He just wasn't fond of the idea of crawling into a mine cart for no apparent reason. It felt silly. But he did so anyway, and with a tight squeeze, the goblin, Harry, and Hagrid were all in. "Here we go," said the goblin, and gripped the brake with one-long fingered, bony hand. And before Harry knew what had hit him, he was knocked backward from the force of the suddenly speeding cart, the wind knocked out of him, and trying desperately to get it back. He hadn't been expecting it. But nonetheless, "Brilliant!" he cried as they passed through caves, the scenery whipping past in a blur. And then the cart pulled to a sudden stop. "Mr. Potter's vault," said Griphook's high and gravely voice. "Key please," He said, holding out his hand. Hagrid handed it to him, looking slightly green around the ears. Griphook put it in the slot, and Harry heard a series of locks clicking inside, and the vault door flew open. He stared in awe at the riches set before him. There were huge golden coins, silver, and small bronze ones, too. As he stood opened mouthed, Hagrid came over and clapped him gently on the shoulder, Harry's knees almost being forced to buckle. "This is it. Wizard's gold. And it's all yours."
Harry walked uneasily forward, with a money sack in his hands, supplied by Griphook, and began to fill it with some gold, silver, and bronze pieces. "See here, Harry," said Hagrid. "This big gold one's called a Galleon. The silver ones are Sickles, and the tiny bronze ones are Knuts," he said, pointing to each and attempting explain the overly complicated value system. Harry looked at him imploringly. "Why don't you just use notes, or a system based on tens?" Hagrid chuckled at the idea. "Now why would we wanta do tha'?"
They entered the cart again, and were so speeding off, towards the Hogwart's vault. Harry's interest rose again when they stopped. "Vault 713," croaked the goblin. "Stand back," he said, holing his hands out importantly as Harry approached to get a better look. And with his long finger, the Goblin stroked it down the vault door. The door quivered slightly, and then the door began to melt away. Harry gasped. "If anybody but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they be sucked inside with no way out." He grinned. "How often do you check to see if someone's in there?" asked Harry, amazed. "Oh, about every ten years." In the middle of the vault, which Harry had suspected to be filled with something very large and impressive with all the fuss that seemed to surround it, was a small, somewhat grubby looking package. Hagrid hurried forward, took it, and placed it in one of his many pockets. "Best not be tellin anyone 'bout this, Harry" he said.
And they set off in the cart for the topside again. Harry could hear Hagrid next to him muttering,"I don' like this, O! I really don' like this!"
Once they had left the bank, Harry went around and visited several stores to buy his books, cauldron, telescope, and potion ingredients, all of them filled with extraordinarily intriguing items, which he was strongly tempted to buy. "Now," said Hagrid, "ya can' go spendin; all dat at once! You have some yeas ahead o' ya!" Harry nodded, plagued with the idea of having to ask his Aunt and Uncle for money to buy a cauldron. It wasn't pleasant. "Here ya are!" said Hagrid, ushering Harry forward to a store titled, 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. "You go in there an' get your robes. I'll be off a bit....have some business at the pub." And he hurried off, leaving Harry to himself.
Harry walked in, and immediately was helped by a small, plump witch, with a measuring tape in hand anda tired smile on her face. "Hogwarts, dear? Go and stand over there, then, by the mirrors. I'll be with you in just a minute. We're fitting another one of your students just now." And she hurried off to a back room, apparently to get some more pins or fabric. Harry walked over to the mirror, and saw another bnoy, his age, standing there. The boy had white-blonde hair, and a sort of sneer on his face. Harry stood on the stool next to him, as the woman hurried out again, working at the other boy's, and another worker began taking is measurements. The white-haired boy looked over at him. "Hogwarts, too?" he asked. Harry nodded.
"It's my first year, too. I can't wait to go. Father says that I'm sure to be years ahead of the other students." He grinned, and Harry looked down at his feet, attempting not to meet the boy's eyes. He wondered if tis was true. "Yes, I'm very excited to be going. I can't wait for the sorting, either," he looked at Harry again, who this time looked up at him in interest, still not talking. "Yes," the boy said, "I do hope so much to be in Slytherin. All my family has been for centuries. I mean, I'm a shoo-in for it. But could you imagine if you got placed in Hufflepuff? I tell you, I'd pack my bags and leave the school in embarrassment." Now, Harry looked down again, and muttered something in a sort of uncommitted way. "So, are your parents, well, our sort?" asked the boy.
They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," said Harry, somewhat haughtily. "Indeed," said the blonde boy, eyeing Harry interestedly, who quickly smoothed his bangs to his forehead. "I don't think they should let the other sort in. Imagine, not even knowing about Hogwarts until they got the letter." Harry listened somewhat ashamed with how little he knew. Somewhere deep down, he almost felt that the boy was right. If this was what every other kid went through who hadn't known about it, it might be kinder to leave them in their own world. "Father thinks it's an outrage that first years can't have broomsticks. He's thinking about smuggling one in for me. He says that if I don't get picked for the Quidditch team, it'll be a crime."
Harry nodded again, without the slightest clue of what the boy was talking about. "Draco Malfoy," said the boy at last, holding out his hand. Harry reached out his own, and was about to introduce himself when he heard a rapping noise on the window outside. Hagrid was tapping on the window, pointing to two large ice cream cones in either hand. "Really, who is that?" asked Draco.
"Oh!" said Harry , finally glad he knew something, "that's Hagrid."
"Hagrid?" asked Draco, "Oh, yes I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant at the school, isn't he?"
Harry's face flushed, and he turned to look at the boy. "Hagrid's the groundskeeper. He's here with me."
"Oh," said the boy, eyes lashing slightly, but he continued in the same careless manner. "I see. Very well."
Harry looked at Draco, slightly stricken with his bluntness. "Dear," said the seamstress, "You're finished, now. Here are your robes. Pay at the front desk."
Harry hurried down and away from the mirrors and the boy and paid quickly, before running outside. He took one of the ice cream cones happily, and they ate it as they walked. "Well,," said Hagrid, after they had finished, "I 'spose we best be gettin' yer wand next."
Harry grinned and his stomach jumped excitedly. This was what he had been looking forward to. His wand.
They entered a shop called Ollivander's, which was filled with rows and rows of shelves holding boxes Harry presumed were wands. "Ello?" called Hagrid, ringing the bell on the front desk. "Ello?" he said, ringing it again.
"Yes?" said a man, who emerged eerily from the shadows, taking the bell away. "Oh," he said, spying Harry. "Oh, here to choose your wand, I presume, although, of course, " the man chuckled, "It is actually the wand the chooses the wizard." He turned away and fumbled in a drawer before turning around with a measuring tape in hand, and fixed a piercing stare with his electric blue eyes on Harry. "Yes, I've been expecting you, now. Hmm, I remember your parents wands," he said, suddenly snapping his fingers. The measuring tape jumped, and suddenly began taking Harry's measurements on its own. "Yes, yur mother's was 10 1/4 inches, willow, quite flexible, good for charm work, I believe. And yes, your father's was an exceptional wand, 11 inches, mahoghany, good for powerful spells and transfiguration. Yes, you resemble him extraordinarily," he said, looking Harry up and down, "Except your, eyes," he gazed uncomfortably into them. "You have your mother's eyes." He gazed off distatnly for a moment, and then said suddenly, taking notice of the measuring tape, which was currently measuring the length of his nostrils, "Stop! Stop! That's enough! Ah, here we go," he said as it dropped to the floor, and held out a wand to Harry. Harry took it, feeling stupid, not knowing what to do. "Use your wand hand to hold it," prompted Mr. Ollivander.
"Well, I'm right-handed if that's what you mean," said Harry, gripping it in his right-hand.
"Indeed, indeed. Now go on. Give it a wave!"
Harry held up the wand awkwardly, and brought it down in a sort of wave. Mr. Ollivander snatched it away almost immediately. "No, no, try this one. 12 inches, willow, dragon heartstring." Harry had barely lifted it before it was snatched away again. "Definitely not," said Ollivander, who was obviously waiting on something. "Here, oak, 13 inches, unicorn hair," he said, and soon snatched it away again as well.
And so it went, with the pile of used wands gaining, until Harry 's arm hurt, feeling as though he had tried every wand in the store. He wondered if it was normal to go through this when picking a wand, but judging by the odd expression of confusion on Hagrid's face, probably not. At last, Ollivander approached him with an expectant look on his face as he looked at the wand in his hands. "I wonder," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
He held out the wand to Harry, who took it, and immediately felt as though waving a wand were the most natural thing to do, and not something near as silly as he had first thought it to be. The wand felt warm in his fingers, and he gave it a wave. Red sparks flew out of the end, and he heard Hagrid sigh in relief, and Mr. Ollivander clap, before he took it back. "Yes, yes. This is your wand, Mr. Potter. Eleven inches, holly, with a phoenix feather core. How curious, though. Curious, curious..." he looked at him wonderingly, not sure if he wanted to know. But he asked anyway.
"Um, Mr. Ollivander? What's curious?" he asked.
Mr. Ollivander jumped, as though he had forgotten Harry was there, and busied himself with wrapping it again. "Oh, nothing. It's just that this wand.....The phoenix who gave the feather for this wand gave one other. Another, which gave you this scar," he said, pointing at Harry's scar as though Harry might not know where it was. Harry gasped, and he heard Hagrid begin to cough fitfully. "Yes," continued Mr. Ollivander. "I believe this means we can expect great things from you, Potter. For He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named did great things. Terrible! But great."
Harry paid for the wand, and hurried out of the store with Hagrid. The shopping was done now, and they made their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron, for a bit of rest. "Alrigh, there, Harry?" asked Hagrid after some time of silence. "Fine," said Harry, knowing perfectly well that he was not, but that this answer was expected of him. But hw could he be fine when he had just found out that the foulest wizard ever who had killed his own parents and tried to kill him, was somehow connected to him, it seemed. Through his wand. For hadn't Mr. Ollivander said it is the wand that chooses the wizard? Perhaps that meant that both ones had seen something in their owners, that the owners themselves could not...... "Hagrid?" said Harry at last, determined to sort out at least some of his confusion, "What are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"Oh, yeah, where'd you hear about those?" And Harry related the story to him about the boy, Draco Malfoy, who he had met in Madame Malkin's.
"Codswallop," Hagrid said when Harry had finished. "I know his type. Think that only people from wizardin' families should be allowed ter go ter da school. But I tell ya, it don' matter, so long as ye got the talent. Some o' the best wizards and witched out dere are muggle-born!"
"I bet the others are way ahead of us, though," said Harry glumly.
"Firs' of all, Harry, yer not a Muggle-born. An' besides, ye'd be surprised. Dat's not really true. I mean, ye're all basically the same without a bit o'trainin'. I 'spose there might be a bit o' culture shock for'em, though."
Harry snorted. It was more than a might. "So, anyway, what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"Oh, dem? Dey're Houses at the school. Everybody gets put inter one. Dere's Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. The Hufflepuffs are kinda known fer being a bit dorky, or summat."
"I bet I'll be in there," muttered Harry.
"But if ye ask me,!" Hagrid continued, "Be'er Hufflepuff than Slytherin. Not a dark wizard ever come out 'oo wasn't in Slytherin. Dodgy folk, some o'em. Of course," he continued fairly, "Dey're not all bad. Jus' like all Hufflepuffs ain't dorks. If ye get put in any o' de Houses, then there'll be a reason, and no 'ard feelins anywheres for dat."
He grinned at Harry reassuringly, and stood up. "Ah,w ell den Harry, I best be goin soon. Oh! But before I do," he bent down to Harry and smiled eagerly, "What would ya like fer a birthday present?"
"Oh!" said Harry, startled, turning red. He had never gotten a real birthday gift before. "Erm, it's ok, really. I don't need anything."
"Nonsense!" said Hagrid, taking his shoulder and pulling him up. "Come on! I know what ye need! A pet! How's dat sound? Now, let's see.....don' wanna get ya a toad, they'd make fun'o'ya. Not a cat, either, dey make me eyes water. Ah! I know! 'll get ya an owl. Bloody useful creatures. 'Ere ye go," he said, directing Harry into Eyelops Owl Emporium. "Pick out anyone ya want!"
Harry was torn, not knowing what he wanted. On the one hand, there was a snowy owl with large amber eyes who looked pleasant. On the other, there was a fierce looking eagle owl, with a surprisingly black coat who looked somewhat intimidating and intelligent. He chose the eagle owl. It was surprisingly well behaved, perched on his soldier, and didn't put up any fight as he put it into its cage again and walked outside with it, Harry thanking Hagrid all the way. "It was no problem. I was happy ter get 'im fer yeh. E's a fine owl, 'Arry," said Hagrid, smiling at the owl. "Beautiful male, really. Nev'r seen one of his type dis pure black either. So what're ya gonna name 'im?"
Harry hadn't thought of this. He stroked the owl's dark plumage absentmindedly through the cage. Then he knew how he would pick. He reached into one of his bags, and pulled out a book, and flipped randomly open to a page. He skimmed down it, searching for a name. "I'll name him," he looked at the name again to be sure, "Blaise," he said finally. He put 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' back in his bag. He re-gripped Blaise's cage, and walked out of the Leaky Cauldron, back into the Muggle World, with his items stashed away in bags and boxes, with Hagrid's help. At last, he arrived back at 4 Privet Drive. He turned to Hagrid, who had set Harry's things down outside the door. "Well, 'Arry, I'll be leaving ya here. Now, remember. Platform 9 an' 3/4, and de train leaves at 11 o'clock. All the information's right dere," he pointed to the piece of parchment gripped in Harry's hand. "Now, I hate ter be leavin' yeh, and all, 'specially with dis lot, but its me orders. See yeh at 'Ogwarts, 'Arry.
Harry smiled at Hagrid, and turned and starting picking his things up. He asked Hagrid to hand him his bag of books, but when he turned around, Hagrid was gone. Harry was sad to see he wasn't there, but as he brought in all the new and obviously magical items into the Dursley's house, he couldn't help but smile at them. Things around number four were going to change.