-Chapter Three-

The Height of Inventiveness


"And then, of course, he asks the poor goblin what the point of all the Sickles and Knuts is!" Harry sighed and furiously sawed at the meat on his plate, shaking his head at Professor McGonagall's antics.

"I wish she wouldn't talk about me behind my back," he said. Neville, the young Longbottom boy, eyed the chunk of meat Harry was now waving as he spoke. "It's just so embarrassing." Neville nodded and continued to watch a drop of gravy fly onto the tablecloth.

"Why did you ask about the money?" Neville asked quietly, slipping a bean into his mouth. Harry wrinkled his forehead, then popped the beef into his mouth. He swallowed.

"Well, I was wondering why there were so many. When am I going to need Knuts, or even Sickles?" Neville looked confused.

"What if you wanted to buy a chocolate frog?" Neville asked.

"A what?" Harry asked.

"It's a sweet," Neville explained, "like Fizzing Whizzbees or Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. They've each got a Famous Witches and Wizards Card in them. The first person to collect them all wins a prize."

"Right, well, ok," Harry said, taken aback. "I'm not saying there isn't a point in having a few of the smaller coins, but there's no need to have so many, especially if I'm just going to get more of them in change. I bet loads of things are overpriced so that shopkeepers don't have to give out as much change. Who'd want to work with those numbers, calculating how much change to give out?"

"I think there's a charm for that," Neville said with a smile. "Gran said it's one of the first ones you learn at Hogwarts."

With that, the two boys settled into a friendly conversation about Hogwarts. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall and Augusta, Neville's grandmother, were eating at a nearby table. The Leaky Cauldron was very busy during the lunchtime rush on a day just after the Hogwarts letters had gone out. This meant that it had been impossible to get a table of four for lunch and instead had needed to settle for two somewhat close tables of two. The tables were close enough that the conversation of the two women could be overheard by their charges, although they were careful to avoid giving away Harry's identity.

Augusta nodded her head towards the table where the boys were seated and the professor looked round. Neville was explaining something to Harry with a broad grin. In return, Harry was gesticulating wildly with a carrot. Both of them laughed and their eyes shone with mirth. Minerva was glad that she had arranged to have lunch with the Longbottoms while Harry was introducing himself to Neville. It would be good for him to settle in with at least one friend. It was even better that Harry would be re-establishing the long-standing bond between the two close families.

After lunch, the group of four went back to Diagon Alley so that they could shop for their school equipment. Augusta explained to Neville that she was Flooing back home to get something ready while he and Harry were being guided by Professor McGonagall. Both boys looked thrilled to be able to spend more time with each other, each in their own particular way; Harry's eyes lit up, and Neville turned pink and smiled. Augusta thanked Minerva and headed back through the entrance to the Alley.

"Right," the Professor said, turning to the two boys, "do you have your lists?" Neville pulled his list and held it out. Harry's face fell and he shook his head.

"I- I didn't have time to get it when we left," he said quietly.

"Have you checked your coat pocket, Mr Potter?" Harry frowned, but checked the pocket of the strange, new coat.

"How-?" Harry's hand closed around the familiar, crumpled parchment and pulled it out. Professor McGonagall winked. Harry turned questioningly to his new friend. Neville shrugged and blushed.

#

Harry remembered first seeing the shop on his journey from the Leaky Cauldron to the bank. It was one of the least impressive shops in appearance, but it was the contents of the shop which appealed to the curious newcomer to the wizarding world. The lettering on the façade of the shop was old and peeling, although it was in pretty good nick for a shop present since 382BC. That said, it was just when the first Ollivander began to sell wands, so perhaps the premises were just the regular kind of old.

Wands, however, were the key to magic. Both Harry and the rather faded Mr Ollivander agreed on this point. Ollivander talked about wands with utter reverence, whereas Harry thought, in a more practical sense, back to needing a wand to even enter the Alley. It was like a secret club, where you could only join if you were invited by a current member. Thus it was that Ollivander could get away with having such a dull and drab shop. Harry hadn't spotted any other wand shops along the alley, at least between the pub and Gringotts.

Ollivander looked deep into Harry's eyes as a little tape measure began whizzing around, taking measurements of all different parts of Harry's body. It had begun with measuring the different parts of his arm and hand, once he had indicated his wand arm. The old wandmaker realised that the little tape measure was getting somewhat overenthusiastic when it tried to measure the distance between his temples, breaking the eye contact.

"Enough," he said sharply and strode back into the depths of his shop. Harry looked around as he waited for Ollivander to return, his eyes resting on the many thin boxes haphazardly weighing down the dusty shelves. Each box had a little label on it with three symbols, which he presumed represented the qualities of the wand. The first symbol was always a vertical line with other lines coming from it, sometimes on one side or the other, sometimes straight through. The third symbol looked like the phases of the moon, from a full circle all the way to a dot to represent the new moon. Harry couldn't see any pattern behind the middle symbol.

Finally, Ollivander returned with a few wands. Harry looked at the labels to see if there was any pattern to the first selection. The moon symbol seemed to be a running theme. If Harry remembered correctly what he'd read about astronomy, the symbols were mostly waxing gibbous - a shape that was just off a full circle. This continued to be the case throughout the visit, with the pile of discarded wands growing ever higher as Harry failed to form a bond with any so far. The wandmaker muttered things like "Maybe rowan, for Charms and magical theory" and "Definitely not hazel, a shame for Divination" whenever a wand was added to the pile.

Harry was eventually united with a wand. He could tell that it was the right one from the moment he touched it. It seemed that Ollivander could, too, as he didn't immediately snatch the wand from his hand. Producing sparks, he looked at Professor McGonagall, who gave him a nod of approval. He recalled what Ollivander had said about the wand just before handing it to him. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.

"Curious... How very curious..." Ollivander was muttering to himself as he watched the young wizard inspect his new wand.

"Sorry, sir, but what's curious?" Harry asked. Ollivander's eyes flickered to Harry's forehead, then higher to Professor McGonagall before he refocused his gaze on Harry's eyes.

"Ah, forgive an old man his musings, Mr Potter," the wandmaker said. "When one has been in the business of wands as long as I, he finds nearly all things curious. You should be pleased with your wand, though, Mr Potter. You will do great things with it. It should work wonders for all manner of restorative tasks."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said with a smile. He took seven Galleons from his pocket and gave them to the wandmaker, who turned to Neville.

"And what about you, young man?" Ollivander asked. Neville blushed deeply and mumbled something. Ollivander quirked an eyebrow.

"I think Mr Longbottom said that he already has a wand," Professor McGonagall said. Ollivander's eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"Are you sure, Mr Longbottom? It doesn't seem to be the case that a wand has chosen you as its master yet. Who did you buy the wand from?" Neville looked firmly at his feet and continued to mumble. Harry thought he heard the word 'father' within the mumbling. Professor McGonagall put a comforting hand on the shoulder of the round-faced boy.

"Never mind, Mr Ollivander," the professor said. She began to steer Neville back towards the shop door.

"But, madam, a wizard should always have their own wand. Wands of family members may have some sentimental value, but all good wandmakers know that they won't work as well as they should. As a professor yourself, surely you want young Mr Longbottom here to be able to perform as well as possible in lessons?" The professor sighed at this.

"I'm sorry, Mr Ollivander, but Mr Longbottom is not here to buy a wand," she said. Harry was dismayed.

"I'll buy Neville a wand," Harry offered with shining eyes.

"That's not your job, Mr Potter," the professor replied, shaking her head.

"But I want to. Neville's my friend." Neville's head shot up. He looked at Harry.

"Y- You want to be friends?" he asked.

"Of course I want to be friends with you, Neville," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Who wouldn't?" He turned to Ollivander. "Neville would like a wand, sir." Professor McGonagall passed her hand over her eyes and sighed as the old man sprang back into the depths of his shop with more grace than Harry thought possible.

Neville's search for a wand was simplicity itself in comparison to Harry's marathon effort. He nearly bounced out of the shop with a cherry and unicorn hair wand, pronounced 'practical' by the expert wandmaker. It was exactly the same length as Harry's, but much sturdier. Ollivander had called it 'unyielding'.

"Consider it a birthday present," Harry had said to stem Professor McGonagall's grumblings about unnecessary purchases. "When's your birthday?"

"Two days ago," Neville said.

"Perfect!"

#

The temperature in Diagon Alley had dropped with the sun's disappearance below the high rooftops of the shops. Only the occasional bar of sunlight shone across the cobbles as the wall of shops was broken up by rare side alleys and passages. A black-haired boy was coming out of Eyelops Owl Emporium with a grin on his face, his arm around a blushing round-faced boy and a snowy owl in a cage held by his free arm. A stern-looking witch was following them out, struggling to maintain her expression.

Neville had plucked up the courage to pull Harry into the musty-smelling shop, determined to pay Harry back for the wand. He had found out that Harry's birthday had been the previous day while they had talked in Madam Malkin's. Neville had only been jabbed by one pin while getting his school robes fitted, so he'd considered that a success. Harry was overjoyed at Neville's selection of an almost glowing snowy owl. Professor McGonagall had looked at her watch as Neville paid for the owl and Harry added a few sickles for some owl treats.

"You've got everything on your lists," she began, "but I think there's enough time for the two of you to quickly look around one shop each." Harry held his hand up towards Neville, waiting for a high-five. Seeing that Neville was both baffled and a little frightened, Harry explained the Muggle concept.

Harry let Neville choose first and the young Longbottom immediately made a beeline for a pretty little glass-fronted shop. He pushed on the green-painted door, with Harry and the professor trailing after him. Professor McGonagall could immediately see why Neville had chosen to come into this particular shop. Augusta had told her about his love of gardening, where he often put the family's house-elf to shame, and it was no surprise that this shop was filled with the fresh scent of greenery. The lack of even a hint of dung revealed that odour-neutralising charms were in place around the central table, above which a sign cheerfully announced that one could 'Mix your own fertiliser - twelve Sickles a bag!' in curly green text.

Around the walls were windows, beyond each of which was a natural scene. Some were brightly lit, some were almost in complete darkness, and yet others were a view of dappled shade. Harry marvelled at the magic of each display; each scene extended impossibly beyond the walls of the shop. He had his nose pressed against one of the displays, looking to see how far the scene stretched, when the spiked tentacles of a particularly ugly-looking plant tapped on the glass. Harry jumped back, nearly into the fertiliser table. Neville, however, looked longingly at the plant taking centre stage in each window or, in the case of the Shrinking Violets, hiding behind all they could. After an animated discussion with the witch behind the counter, Neville came away with a single seed wrapped in a sheet of parchment.

Harry had chosen Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment as the last port of call on the adventure in Diagon Alley. From what little he had seen and heard so far, this shop promised to display the latest and greatest wizarding inventions. Harry's mind bubbled with curiosity at what he might find. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The biggest section of goods focused on housework and convenience around the home. Harry skimmed over the self-heating pans, enchanted scrubbing brushes and self-iron shirts. His gaze lingered only briefly on a sign under some knitting needles which said 'Knit a Bother - Patterns sold separately.' He wanted to see the absolute pinnacle of magical inventiveness and creativity. Surely the wizarding world was faring better than the Muggles.

Despite the number of people shopping in Diagon Alley at this time of year, there were few shoppers in Wiseacre's. Most of them were perusing a section dominated by different types of quill. Harry was drawn by the relative popularity through the household area and he peered at the signs explaining each product. Self-inking quills were a must for Hogwarts, and he even persuaded Neville to buy one. Other students were deciding whether to get spell-checking, colour-changing or Quick Quotes varieties. Two students were having a debate on what colour their quill should be, using the shop's free colouring service. One thing they both agreed on was that acid green was most certainly not a good colour to pick.

Professor McGonagall was checking her watch when Harry made it round to the more esoteric items. This was what he was looking for; there had to be something impressive here. He read through each explanatory sign carefully to see if there was something that would catch his discerning eye. Neville picked up a Remembrall, which the sign helpfully told him would fill with red smoke if he had forgotten something.

"This would be great if it could tell me what I'd forgotten," Neville said sadly as the glass ball filled with red smoke. Harry agreed that it was a very niche item with limited usefulness, but he decided to buy one when he spotted strange symbols inscribed on the inside of the gold ring which circled the glass ball and split it into two halves. He wanted to investigate that writing later. Similarly, he bought a pocket square which would change colour if you tapped it twice. He had no intentions of wearing it, but he was interested in the magic behind it. He was disappointed, however, that there was nothing terribly useful or interesting in the shop.

The professor raised an eyebrow when the boys left with their final purchases. She'd had a lot of practice in not being judgemental or influencing the new first-year students in her many decades of working for the school, but some students really tested her resolve. Harry Potter had made some bizarre purchases, but it was his money to spend. She sighed and composed herself once more.

"That's all we have time for, today," she said. Neville continued to smile, satisfied with his day.

"I guess I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express, Harry," Neville said, extending a hand towards Harry in farewell. Harry looked at it in horror. How could he survive another month with the Dursleys now that he'd seen all this?