AN - I don't own Harry Potter or any associated properties! All characters and fictional events belong to J.K Rowling!
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The wind rushed through Harry's dark hair as he and Hagrid sped through the streets of London. He would have questioned why they hadn't attracted the attention of the police had he not been fearing for his life. Hagrid drove with excessive speeds and constantly disobeyed the lane noted that Hagrid also didn't know what a turn signal was, just as the people that Hagrid cutoff. The worst part about it was that Hagrid seemed oblivious to all of the traffic laws he was constantly in violation of. He just seemed to be enjoying the ride! It wasn't long until Hagrid finally began to slow down. He released the accelerator and drifted to the left side of the road, eventually coming to a full stop outside a building with a rather old looking sign.
"Well tha' was fun!" Hagrid laughed as he placed the motorcycle in park and put the kickstand down. "I always love drivin' this thing! Did you enjoy the ride, Harry?"
Harry could only nod and smile weakly up at Hagrid. Truthfully, Harry felt like was about to be sick, but he didn't want to appear ungrateful for Hagrid's generosity in taking him all the way to London to go school shopping. Harry carefully made his way out of the sidecar and stood with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily and willing his nausea to subside. When Harry felt well enough to walk, he reached into the sidecar for his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He gave a slight burp, quickly covering it up as a cough, before looking up at Hagrid.
"Where do we need to go first?"
"Well righ' here!" Hagrid pointed up at the old sign hanging above a door whose paint seemed worn from years of weathering. "To the Leaky Cauldron!"
Hagrid gestured to Harry to follow before opening the door and stepping inside the dark establishment. Harry took one more steadying breath before moving to follow Hagrid inside. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he was kind of underwhelmed. He didn't know what to expect from his first magical establishment, but as he looked around he couldn't see any difference from the Leaky Cauldron and normal pub. Wooden tables and chairs took up space on the floor, some housing patrons having an afternoon meal and drink. It was poorly lit, but it seemed to be due to the shades that had been pulled on the windows to keep the summer's heat out. A man shuffling behind the counter of the bar looked up from polishing a glass and smiled.
"Hagrid!" He exclaimed, drawing the attention of several patrons. "Here for a pint?"
"Not today, Tom!" Hagrid shook his head and patted Harry on the back, missing Harry tense as he did so. "I'm out on official Hogwarts business. We've got to get 'arry here ready for school!"
All the chatter and noise of the Leaky Cauldron stopped. Harry was about to note how eerie it was before he caught that everyone in the room was looking at him…and his forehead. He couldn't help but feel a little concerned as he drew everyone's gaze. He looked up at Hagrid who, despite his oblivious nature, could even see how uncomfortable Harry was under this level of attention. Before Hagrid could say anything to draw attention away from Harry, someone called something from the back of the room. This sparked a cascade of questions and statements that Harry had no idea how to respond to.
"Has it been 19 years already?"
"There's no way that's 'im!"
"Of course it is! Look at the scar on his forehead!"
"It's so good to see you alive, Mr. Potter!"
"He's going to school with my kid!"
As more and more people began to chime in, Hagrid nudged Harry forward, helping him navigate the crowd to the back of the bar. They slipped out of a door and into an enclosure of some kind. There was no roof, but the walls around them were made of red brick with no windows or doors to speak of. Harry found himself taking yet another deep breath and turning to ask Hagrid a question.
"Hagrid? What the hell was that?" He began. "Does everyone know who I am? And why did a few of them ask about my scar?"
"Well 'arry…" Hagrid hesitated. "You are pretty well-known in the magical worl'. I don' think we should get to far into it tonigh', but I promise it will be explained."
Harry didn't want to press the issue any further than he had to right now: they had a busy day ahead of them! He gave Hagrid a shallow nod of acceptance and glanced around them.
"Hagrid, why are we in a brick pen?"
Hagrid gave a hearty laugh before pulling an umbrella out of his coat. He winked at Harry before tapping a series of bricks with the end of the pink umbrella and taking a step back. Harry temporarily took a step back as well, but immediately stepped forward again when the bricks began to shift on their own. It started with one brick, which rotated so it stuck out of the wall. Many other bricks followed this movement as it seemed the wall was rolling itself back, opening a door of sorts. Harry would have been amazed at the magic he had just witnessed if he didn't get a glimpse of what lay behind the door.
Harry stepped out onto a cobblestone street that was lined with dozens of different shops. He looked left and right, mouth agape, taking in the architecture. The buildings along the street were all made of a gray brick, but the deliberately tilting architecture and colorful accents gave each building its unique charm. Red, green, blue, yellow, and other colors were visible from where Harry stood, rooted in astonishment. He could see signs that read "Candra's Cauldron Emporium, est. 211 B.C," "Alexandria's Apothecary, est. 292 B.C," and "Quality Quidditch Supplies Shop, est. 1050 A.D." Each one intrigued him more than the last, opening so many possibilities as to what kind of stores and products resided in the magical world.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley, 'arry!" Hagrid said as he stepped up behind Harry. "No place is better for ya magical needs!"
"This is amazing, Hagrid!" Harry exclaimed, before halting his enthusiasm. "Hagrid, I can't wait to get started, but I don't have any money…"
"O' course ya do 'arry!" Hagrid glanced down at Harry before pointing down the street. "We jus' have to make a stop at Gringotts!"
"Gringotts?" Harry followed Hagrid's pointing finger down the street. There sat a tall building that appeared to have three differently angled segments. The front of the building had four sets of columns that rose all the way to the edge of the roof, following the apparent tilt of the architecture. Two cast iron lanterns extended out of the side of the first level, which connected to a sign that was etched in the stone that the building was constructed with. Harry read the sign: "Gringotts Bank." Harry's eyes widened as he realized that he wouldn't be without money for much longer.
As he and Hagrid moved down the street towards the bank entrance, Harry couldn't help but watch the people that bustled about Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards, dressed in colorful robes and pointed hats, entered and exited different stores carrying packages of varying sizes. They stopped and chatted with people they knew, sat on benches and chairs in the shade, and checked their lists for what else they would need to purchase. Despite their eccentric clothing, they didn't seem that irregular in their behavior to Harry. They chatted and laughed with each other, said "please" and "thank you," and even managed a glare when someone cut them off or accidentally stepped on their shoe.
Seeing the magical people act the same as the muggles put Harry at ease. He had subconsciously been worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up with conversations as a wizard. He had no idea what they talked about or acted like. Seeing the normalcy they seemed to possess, despite their gifted abilities, filled Harry with confidence that he would be able to learn the ropes of this world. Harry felt a surge of confidence to accompany his exhilaration and he strode into Gringotts with Hagrid in tow.
The confidence that Harry felt didn't last long as he looked around Gringotts' main hall. Harry couldn't help but stand stunned at the scene that lay before him. Not only was the interior of the bank extravagant and ornate, but it was full of small creatures with otherworldly features. Each one was somewhere around 81 centimeters tall with pointed ears and long crooked noses. Their fingers shared a similar length to their noses, but each finger was adorned with sharp, pointed nails that tapped loudly against the desks. Hagrid stepped up next to Harry and gently nudged him forward.
"C'mon. Let's go see the head goblin," Harry's bearded companion said as he took the lead.
Harry could only silently nod as he slowly followed Hagrid. He saw the goblins stop their work and eye him as they walked through the hall. Some squinted at him, some glared, but others looked on curiously. It seemed that everyone who stopped to look at him recognized him in some capacity. Feeling the scrutiny of the goblins, Harry ducked down and sped up to walk next to Hagrid once more. The recognition Harry was getting certainly made him uncomfortable. He didn't like the reverent looks that some people gave him. Harry had grown up under the impression that putting yourself in the spotlight was a ticket to different kinds of pain. Everytime he had been the center of attention, it always seemed to end with someone putting him down, hitting him, or locking him away. Harry hated that feeling and actively tried to draw as little attention to himself as possible as if to protect himself. In this new place, it seemed that everyone knew him whether he liked it or not.
"Mr. Potter." A rough voice said above him. "We've been expecting you."
Harry looked up in front of him. A goblin with long gray hair sat forward and leaned over his elevated desk, and grinned at him. Harry couldn't help but feel unsettled as another person -or creature- recognized him before he introduced himself. How many goddamn people know who I am? Harry thought as he stared back up at the goblin. Hagrid, who had been watching the exchange -or lack thereof-, cleared his throat and spoke out.
"Young 'arry here needs some o' his money. It's time for 'im to get ready for Hogwarts!"
"Is that so?" The goblin said slowly, almost menacingly, holding his grin. "We can accommodate Mr. Potter…as long as he has his vault key."
Harry grew worried for a moment. He didn't know magic existed a little over a month ago. He had no idea where a key to a mysterious vault, which was apparently his, might be! He looked back at the goblin, about to admit his lack of knowledge of a key, before Hagrid made a sort of "Ope!" sound and started digging around his pockets. After a few moments of searching, Hagrid pulled a large key out of his pocket and placed it on the goblin's desk.
"Tha' should do!" Hagrid smiled over the desk, before he appeared to remember something. "Also, er, I'm 'ere about you know wha' in vault you know which…the Hogwarts business."
The creature behind the desk nodded slowly at Hagrid before taking the key from the desk. He held it up, examining it against the light, before looking down at Harry and handing him the key.
"Someone will be with you shortly Mr. Potter," He said tersely.
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Harry and Hagrid stepped off the enchanted minecart that transported them down to the vault levels of the bank. Despite the massive drops and numerous twists and turns, Harry didn't feel as nauseous as he did when he rode on Hagrid's motorcycle. In fact, it left him feeling rather energized. He imagined that it would have been similar to riding a rollercoaster, had he ever been on one. Harry's usually messy hair was even more ruffled from the excessive speeds they reached, and he tried to set it as normally as he could as they approached his vault.
"Vault 687." Their guide said in his high pitched and nasally voice. "Key please."
Harry placed his key in the goblin's outstretched hand and took a step back. The shorter creature stepped up and placed the key in the dark hole it belonged to. He twisted his wrist and removed the key. Taking three steps back, the goblin allowed the vault doors to swing open. Harry stood in astonishment of what was inside.
Mountains of gold, silver, and bronze coins glittered in the light of the lantern that Hagrid carried.
"Are you sure this is my vault?" Harry asked, almost timidly.
"O' course it is! The headmaster made sure it was yer key!" Hagrid nudged Harry forward. "Your parents were sure to leave ya somethin'!"
"My parents?" Harry's view on the money couldn't have shifted any faster. Where he previously stood in awe of the massive collection of coins he was presented with, he now stood in distaste. To Harry, the money had instantly become a representation of what he could not have. The money would not be in his sole possession if his parents were still living. If it weren't for the mysterious forces that had yet to be revealed to him, his parents should be here to help him get ready for Hogwarts. The young man turned his eyes down towards his battered trainers. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made a silent plea that he wouldn't take it for granted. He wouldn't engage in needless spending, only spending money on things he absolutely needed. Harry raised his head once more to the fortune that surrounded him, a grimace flashing over his features before being replaced with a determined glint in his eye. He broke the heavy that had fallen over the trio by taking a step forward and placing handfuls of the gold coins in his pockets.
"Mr. Potter," the goblin guide interrupted. "Please use this bag. It should be more efficient for transporting your galleons."
Harry nodded, meeting the goblin's gaze. He transferred the coins in his pockets to the bag before resuming his original transaction. He filled the brown leather bag to capacity and pulled the golden ropes tight to seal it. Satisfied he had enough money for what he needed for school, he turned back to Hagrid and nodded. He didn't want to spend any more time in the vault than he had to, lest he fall victim to his emotions. He strode back out to the cart that had taken them underground and took his seat, waiting for his companions. Hagrid shared a look with the guide and could only manage a shrug at the young man's behavior around the money. They followed him, taking their seats on the cart, and began their descent to the next vault they needed to visit.
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Harry walked down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, struggling to carry the numerous bags that contained his school supplies. The excursions into the stores after Gringotts had been mundane and rather uneventful. Harry stepped into each one, slightly taken with the unordinary products they possessed before he was sucked into the monotony of shopping. It was quite different shopping for himself for a change, but he still felt the overwhelming boredom of judging pant lengths and hat sizes. In truth, Harry may have been more interested in the experience if his mind hadn't been occupied with what occurred in Gringotts.
He still thought of his parents and the money they left him, but the predominant scene that played in his mind was what happened in Vault 713.
"Wait 'ere," Hagrid told him. He did as he was told, but couldn't help but watch the event with great interest. Hagrid hadn't let on any ulterior motive to coming to Gringotts before he mentioned a mysterious vault and its contents until their encounter with the head goblin. Hagrid's continued secrecy interested Harry: Hagrid was a seemingly open person, kind and a bit unaware of his own strength. What was he hiding? He said it was for Hogwarts, but that didn't exactly explain anything. In his curiosity, Harry tried to peer around Hagrid's large body into the vault, but could only see a massive hand stuffing two separate parcels into the deep pockets of a brown leather coat. With a deep exhale, Hagrid turned back to Harry and sat back in the cart. With that, the cart lurched back into motion and they left Vault 713 behind in darkness.
Harry had tried to question Hagrid on the objects in the vault, but the bearded man either deflected the question or gave a short "It's Hogwarts business." Harry attempted to let his curiosity subside as they bought robes, a cauldron, pants, shoes, textbooks, and all the other items on his list, save for a wand. Had he not been sucked into the tediousness of shopping he may have succeeded. It also didn't help that Hagrid had left him to complete his shopping on his own, without much of a good reason. He only needed a wand. It's probably just going to be more measuring and "fittings" anyway. Harry mused. I can probably handle this on my own.
Harry pushed into a shop with a sign that read "Ollivander's," hoping to purchase the final item on his list quickly. The door shut behind him, ringing the bell that had been placed on the corner of the door, alerting the shop owner to his presence. Harry glanced around the small store. The walls were stuffed with boxes, presumably filled with wands, stacked on one another and ascending to the ceiling. A lone counter sat in the middle of the room, papers strewn about the surface in a rather unorganized manner. Harry would have thought that no one was in the store if he hadn't soon heard the low rumble of wheels on the wooden floor.
An elderly man rolled into view on a wheeled ladder. His wild, white hair shook as he jerked his head towards his latest customer. The creases on his face grew deeper as he took in the appearance of the man who had come to visit him. His eyes grew wide and he smiled gently at the raven-haired man that stood before him.
"Ah…so it's time then." He climbed down the ladder and stood behind the counter, extending his hand to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I am Garrick Ollivander. Best wandmaker in all of Britain. I assume you're here to purchase your first wand then?"
"Yes sir." Harry resigned himself to the fact that most people were going to know him without a proper introduction. "Am I to just pick one from the wall?"
"No, no, no, my dear boy!" Ollivander's eyes widened. "You do not choose the wand! The wand chooses the wizard!"
"Right…" Harry gave an unconvinced look before schooling his features. If magic is real, why couldn't something so ridiculous be feasible? "How do we do that?"
"It is a bit of trial and error, I must admit." Ollivander chuckled. "It doesn't usually take long, though. Funny how that works out…"
The wandsmith turned and scanned the wall of boxes behind him. He reached out and picked one, quickly handing it to Harry in anticipation. Harry glanced up at Ollivander and pursed his lips. With a half shrug, he lifted the lid off of the slender container and peered inside. The wand housed inside was a sleek, black design with silver inlays along its length. Harry took it out of the box, grasping at the coarser handle, and examined it further. It felt a tad unwieldy in his hand, but he supposed that was because he wasn't used to using a wand yet.
"Well," Ollivander began. "Give it a flick."
Harry did as he was told and flicked his wand in the direction he was facing. The papers on the counter were thrown about the store, boxes of wands were jettisoned from their positions in their stacks, and Harry thought he heard something shatter in the back of the store. Fearing punishment, Harry quickly placed the wand on the counter before taking a large step back. Ollivander merely glanced at Harry, shrugged, and flicked his own wand to restore the store to its original state.
"I didn't think that wand would have suited you, but I've had that one for so long that I just had to try and sell it!" Ollivander sighed. "Let's try another, shall we?"
That was a phrase that was repeated many times that day. Harry tried wand after wand to no avail. The only thing that ever felt different about wielding the different wands was simply the texture of the wood used to create it. Vases were smashed, boxes thrown across the room, hair was singed, and the windows of the storefront shattered and fell onto the street. Each time, Ollivander repaired what was damaged, and each time he became more exasperated.
"I-I'm sorry, sir." Harry said glumly after his tenth attempt. "Maybe there is no wand for me…"
"Nonsense, my dear boy!" Ollivander replied in earnest. "Every witch and wizard has a wand out there for them! It's just a matter of trial and error!"
Ollivander appeared thoughtful for a moment before retreating to a room that was out of Harry's view. The young man was tempted to leave to save Mr. Ollivander the trouble of repairing any more of his store, but the wandsmith returned rather quickly. He held a long, slender box just like the others, but he held this one a bit more carefully. He looked at it with a kind of reverence that piqued Harry's curiosity.
"Hm…I wonder…" Ollivander said distantly, his eyes seemingly fixed on the box in his hands. He held it out, offering it to Harry, watching him closely. Harry took the box and eyed it. Without even opening the lid, Harry could feel something he didn't with the other wands. He wasn't sure if it was the fatigue of trying so many wands, or an actually magical feeling he possessed, but Harry was drawn to the wand. It felt familiar in a way. Setting the box on the countertop, Harry quickly disposed of the box's lid and stared down at the want that lay before him.
"14 inches long, made of holly wood, and a phoenix feather core." Ollivander recited the specifications of the wand. "Please give it a try, Harry."
Harry nodded and reached into the case to retrieve the wand. As soon as he held it firm in his grasp, Harry felt a surge of warmth cascade around his body. It was as if he had been met with the first warm spring day after a particularly cold winter. Harry stared down at the wand, feeling as if he had been reunited with a piece of himself that he didn't know existed.
"It is quite interesting that this wand should choose you." Ollivander said distantly.
"Why is that, sir?" Harry looked up curiously.
"Well…your wand has a brother." The look on Harry's face told Ollivander that he needed to explain further. "Your wand's core is a phoenix feather. The phoenix that gave your wand's feather also gave one other feather. That core went to a wand that ended up giving you that scar…It went to the wand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Who is that? He gave me my scar?" Harry asked incredulously.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter." Ollivander said, visibly shaken from speaking of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "I do not wish to speak of this any further. I enjoyed seeing you today, please feel free to stop by anytime."
Harry turned away, more confused than ever about his life. It seemed like once he found out something about his parents or his past, he was left with more questions than answers. He'd have to ask Hagrid to explain what he knows about his predicament. If he hasn't left me here… Hagrid had now been absent from the shopping trip for a few hours now. It wasn't hard to spot him in a crowd, so Harry was convinced that he would have to continue the journey on his own. That was until he saw Hagrid walking towards him jovially in the street. He was carrying something behind his back and only grew more excited as he drew nearer.
"There ya are, 'arry! I've been lookin' all over for ya!" He then held out the object he was carrying behind his back. It was a bird cage, housing a beautiful snow white owl. Harry peered through the bars of the cage at the bird. The owl's large, golden orbs met Harry's eyes. It seemed to examine him, sweeping its gaze up and down Harry before coming back to rest on his face. The owl let out a pleased sounding hoot, passing Harry of a test he didn't know he would be taking.
"'Er name is Hedwig." Hagrid spewed happily. "I wanted to get ya a familiar to take with ya! Top o' the line, she is! Can carry any mail ya got to any place ya wish, she's a great judge o' character, and she's bout as friendly as can be! She was hangin' round an orange cat tha' I think the shop owner said was part kneazle. You know she'll be a good bird if she's been 'round a kneazle!"
"Th-thank you! Thanks a lot, Hagrid!" Harry looked up at the man sincerely. Harry had never had anything bought for him before, much less a pet! "She's beautiful…"
"It's nothin'! Let's get ya to the inn: you've got to be rested for ya trip in a couple o' days!"
With that, Harry had temporarily forgotten to ask Hagrid about his knowledge of the past. They placed their numerous bags into the trunk that Harry had bought and made their way to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry rented a room for that night and the next, and bided his time wandering Diagon Alley and getting to know his new pet. Hagrid had departed that night, assuring him that he would be back to help him get to the train on the morning of the day he was supposed to depart.
On the night before he was supposed to leave for Hogwarts, Harry could hardly sleep in anticipation. His life had changed so drastically in the past few days, but Harry felt that the most significant change would come tomorrow when he finally boarded the train to Hogwarts.
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AN - Thanks for reading Chapter 3 of Hogwarts University! This was a bit of a long one, but I didn't feel I could split it into two chapters very effectively. The song I envisioned representing this chapter was Spit Of You by Sam Fender. To me, the lyrics fit Harry's current situation with his parents quite well. Referencing how he looks like the spitting image of his father (with his mother's eyes), but he can't talk to them because they're not alive with him. The segment that reads is amazing:
'Cause it was love
In all its agony
Every bit of me
Hurting for you
'Cause one day that'll be your forehead I'm kissing
And I'll still look exactly like you
I really feel like this fits Harry's desires to feel his parents' love really well. Anyway, please leave a review and I'll see you in Chapter 4!
