As the spirits had promised, Harry's first Hogwarts letters arrived in August two years later just a week before his eleventh birthday. It had been a messy affair. Vernon had somehow gotten the idea that barricading the house would keep the owls at bay and the letters away. Harry wished he could have enlisted the help of his magic to retrieve the letter, but he could not risk it, lest giving away his secrets. Vernon had them moved to a small island somewhere. Honestly, Harry was shocked he cared so much. If it were any other person, Harry would have been thrown to the streets, blood be damned. While Vernon's beatings had lessened since the floaters had helped him remove the curses, Vernon's prejudices against magic kept their relationship strained and full of malice. Though he was curious as to why Vernon would go so far as to uproot his family to protect a nephew he considered an abomination, Harry chalked it up to his stubbornness and stupidity and called it a day. He was tired and just wanted a break. It was his birthday, after all.
Harry stared down at the birthday cake he drew himself in the soot and sighed. It was a silly notion, but he couldn't help but believe that he needed some affirmation of his age, proof that he'd managed to stay alive this long. As a toddler, he'd worked up the courage of asking his aunt when his birthday was. She'd looked down at him at first with a sneer, but seemed to see something in his eyes that softened her expression minutely. Quietly, she muttered, "31st of July, 1980". That was the most civil conversation Harry had ever had with his aunt. Actually, it was the only conversation he ever had with Petunia. She had always been a sort of distant person, even to her family. Coddling of Dudley aside, she was always very wooden and quiet. Hardly more than two sentences ever passed between her and Vernon a day.
A loud banging interrupted Harry's musings. The half-giant, Hagrid, was nice. He liked him more when Dudley sprouted a tail.
"Dun worry, your cousin should be back to normal in a few...er...days. I think. I never graduated school, y'know. Tha's why it's so important that you go to 'ogwarts," he said as he stowed his pink umbrella.
"Oh I'm sure he'll manage. I rather think that it's an improvement of his looks, rounds out his character." Hagrid gave a raucous belly-laugh and beckoned Harry to the side-car of his motor-bike. The ride was peaceful, familiar even, and soon had him sound asleep. When he woke, Harry found that he'd been moved to an old-fashioned, but cozy bed that smelled of soap. Hagrid was pulling his coat on, the source of the rustling that woke Harry in the first place. They headed down the stairs and ran into a room full of people who stopped in their activities to stare at him, eyes full of a strange emotion that Harry couldn't place. After the second woman gave him a trembling handshake, he recognized it as awe.
All of these people. They're magical, aren't they. Harry asked the floaters. He could see the threads of magic sprouting from everyone in the room. Yes, all of these people are witches and wizards. This is a very well-used passage into the magical world.
Harry's conversation was interrupted by a man who Hagrid introduced as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"N-not that you n-need it, e-eh, P-potter?" Professor Quirrel offered his hand for Harry to shake and snatched it away quickly, as if it stung. Harry could only offer a shy grin and felt decidedly uneasy about the man.
Diagon Alley was a wonderful place, so full of color and life. His first glimpse of the magical world through his own eyes left him with giddy pleasure. Hagrid took him to Gringotts first, idly commenting that they weren't the nicest of creatures. Harry was too focused on the fact that goblins existed. They stepped into the immaculate bank and walked up to a counter.
"Mr. Potter would like to make a withdrawal," Hagrid barked to seemingly nobody. A wrinkly head suddenly appeared over a ledger on the counter and a high pitched voice asked, "And does Mr. Potter have his key?" Hagrid searched around his pockets, worrying Harry, until he found the tiny golden key. Harry sighed inwardly, wondering at how this shining example of a role-model came to be his caretaker. Anyhow, he'd made it this far, he supposed he liked Hagrid enough to overlook occasional absentmindedness. Hagrid made a mysterious stop at another vault and retrieved a package that had suspicious magical threads tied to it in circular patterns that he'd never seen before. Magical energy usually sprouted from its sources and ended somewhere, but these made endless loops. He decided to keep his mouth shut. Harry entered his vault with the help of a goblin called Griphook and observed with wide eyes the vault his parents left him, filled to the brim with gold coins.
"This is, of course, a small portion of the full Potter-Evans estate, which will be given to you when you are of age," the goblin said in a clipped, business-like manner.
"Really? Only a part of it? I don't think I'll ever need this much gold in all my life."
Griphook smirked at him and tossed him a pouch. "Put as much in there as you think you need, Mr. Potter. It's magically enlarged on the inside, so it will hold quite a bit." After thinking on it, Harry piled in coins until he could at least see the gold upon opening that pouch and snapped it shut, thinking it was quite enough. Griphook raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Potter, you're a thrifty man."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Isn't it enough? It's more money than I've ever touched."
"Really, and how much have you ever touched?"
"Four pounds for groceries when my aunt was too busy to do the shopping. Are you sure this isn't too much? It just doesn't feel right taking all this." Harry shrugged. He'd never paid too much attention to money. Griphook tutted and looked at the boy in tattered clothing who would be among the richest wizards in existence. "Mr. Potter, you must understand that your parents were very wealthy. It is not my place to comment on your personal life, but you do deserve to live to your means." As they exited, Griphook nudged Hagrid and said, "See that Mr. Potter gets some new clothes at least," he looked Harry over again from the corner of his eye, "and perhaps a solid meal...or two."
Harry and Hagrid made their way to Madam Malkin's and Hagrid was made to stay outside by a matronly lady who beckoned Harry in, with the simple greeting, "Hello, darling. Hogwarts? First year? Brilliant. Wait here, please," before she bustled off to her other customers while a magical measuring tape wrapped itself around Harry's torso as he sat in his chair. He pulled out his pouch to pick out a few coins for when he had to pay and the jingling caught someone's attention.
"You're a first year at Hogwarts too? I'm so excited to get my uniform, but I only wish the school would let me replace the fabric with something finer. I hate wool," a pale-faced boy with slicked back blond hair said as if they'd been friends forever.
"Yeah...I guess it could be uncomfortable, wool, that is," Harry replied.
The pale boy stared at him and smiled. "Glad you agree! I want to sneak a broom in with me. First years aren't allowed to fly, pfft, but I've been flying since before I could walk. I think I'd know if it was too dangerous for me."
Not sure what this strange boy meant by brooms or flying, Harry merely chuckled with him and nodded politely.
"What house do you expect to be placed in? I'm thinking I'll be Slytherin since everyone in my family's been there. I do hope I don't get Hufflepuff. I think I'd perish. Yes, Hogwarts is full of the lesser sort of lower birth, like that one over there," the boy continued, gesturing over to Hagrid, "But I suppose educating them would make their presence in the community slightly tolerable. Can't be running around without control over their magic. It'd be chaos."
Harry was confused and somewhat affronted. He liked Hagrid. "I don't think they're lesser, merely dealt the wrong cards in life. I mean he," gesturing at Hagrid, "doesn't really have a choice as to who his parents turned out to be. Magic's magic, right?"
"You're right, I suppose. Everyone who can at least hold a wand is leagues better than any muggle," the boy shuddered, "I'm Draco, by the way, pleasure meeting you." Before Harry could reply, Draco was called off to be fitted for his robe. Harry shrugged and decided he'd made a friend and was happy enough about that. He purchased his robes and met Hagrid outside before continuing through Diagon Alley for the rest of his school things. Before long, all he had left was a wand. Hagrid left him alone again and told him to buy his wand while he went to fetch something. Really, it wasn't the first time Harry'd been left as an unattended minor, but it was still called into question Hagrid's skills as a guardian. Sighing, he entered Ollivander's shop.
The dusty shop was lined with rows of boxes and cabinets piled upon each other to the ceiling, resembling some sort of ramshackle apothecary's shop. An old man with frazzled white hair popped out from behind a shelf and screamed. Harry screamed back.
"Oh my, I do apologize," Ollivander said, hand still over his heart, "Hello, hello. Hogwarts? First year? Oh my, Harry Potter!"
Not bothering to wonder how he'd known, Harry greeted him and offered his hand to shake when the old man scuttled by. "I need a wand," he said simply.
"Of course you do! This is a wand shop. The only wand shop, incidentally," Ollivander disappeared into the mess, though his voice still floated over the mountains of clutter, "I remember your parents' wands, 11" Mahogany, 10 and a quarter Willow. I can't tell you what joy it brings me that you're finally here to get your wand." The old man came back with a stack of wands. He handed one to Harry, who took it and examined it. The piece of wood seemed to take magical energy from him and bind it like a hair tie.
"Well, give it a wave," Ollivander said expectantly. Harry swished it once and the magical threads it bound surged too quickly and something exploded. Ollivander plucked the wand from his fingers with a grimace and said, "Hmm probably not." Harry tried many wands, each doing more disastrous things, culminating in all of the light bulbs exploding over their heads. Harry replaced the offending wand on the counter, apologizing for the upteenth time.
"Quite alright, that's what cleaning charms are for. I do believe it is I who should be apologizing to you, Mr. Potter. I've never before gotten it so wrong...unless." Something dark colored Ollivander's eyes and he scuttled off to retrieve just one wand. He looked at the dark box with uncertainty. "This has been in my shop since before I inherited it. I wonder…" he trailed off as he handed the wand to Harry. Immediately, the wand resonated with Harry's magical core and a shower of red sparks bolstered by a wash of energy came out of the tip of the wand, leaving both Harry and Ollivander in a state of disarray.
"Yikes," the old man said, before taking the wand back, "Curiouser and curiouser."
"What's curious, sir?"
"It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother gave you that scar."
As Ollivander explained himself, the floaters spoke, Yes, the phoenix that gave its feathers gave the first when it was young and the second just before its first regenerative fire. It is rare that these things happen. Though you can perform magic without it, this wand will serve you well. The floaters were silent again.
"I can see that you will be a powerful wizard, Harry," Ollivander winked, "I expect great things from you."
Harry stroked Hedwig and decided he firmly liked Hagrid despite being left alone yet again at King's Cross. Sighing, he set about finding this platform 9 ¾ despite the platforms being named in whole numbers. He supposed that if he couldn't find it, he could go back to Diagon Alley and live life as a hermit. Just as he was about to give up, he found himself nearly trampled by a clan of red-headed people headed by a stout woman who was shouting, "...EVERY YEAR PACKED WITH MUGGLES," as if she weren't in the middle of muggle London. She was nice like Hagrid, a bit boisterous and loud, but was kind of enough to help him through the gateway to the Hogwarts express. Against his nagging sense of self preservation, Harry ran through the wall and found himself facing a massive, old-fashioned train. He boarded and found an empty compartment before settling himself and sticking his nose straight into one of his new books, something on Victorian flower symbology that he'd picked up for a ludicrously low price at Flourish and Blott's.
Harry expected the train ride to be uneventful, but somehow, he found himself sitting in front of two people who'd invited themselves amicably into his carriage, Ron, because he couldn't find a seat, and Hermione, because she was helping someone look for a toad. They were both characters, Ron, because he ate like a tornado and Hermione, because she was muggleborn and knew more about magic than Ron, who'd been raised all his life in the magical world. He decided he liked them, too. Since they were such good company, it was the least he could do to buy them sweets.
"Watch it Harry, those beans have a few nasty flavors in there," Ron warned, mouth half full with cauldron cake. Harry shrugged and ate another jelly bean, remarking, "Tastes like grass...I like it!" Ron gave him a look. "What? I've never had candy before. This is good!" Ron gave him another look.
Hermione grinned toothily at him. "Really? Are your parents dentists too?"
Harry looked down, unsure of what to say. Ron nudged her hard. "Are you daft," he said in a low whisper, "his parents are dead."
Hermione gasped, and said, "I'm sorry, Harry, I'd forgotten." She looked on the verge of tears.
"It's fine, really. My uncle mentions it all the time. I'm used to it. Really."
"So your relatives never let you eat candy?" Ron asked, brushing the incident off with ease.
"Hmm well, it would be more accurate to say that I was lucky to eat anything at all. I got maybe a meal a day. It never included anything like this stuff," he said, flicking an ear wax jelly bean into his mouth, "It's great."
"They starved you?!" Hermione moved to sit next to him, grasping his shoulder with one hand, "That's abuse! Harry have you ever told anyone? A police officer? A teacher?"
"I tried, once," he said, averting his eyes again, "I think that was the first time he broke anything."
Hermione threw his arms around him, surprising Harry, who didn't know what to do. He was more surprised when Ron moved to sit on his other side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Ron had even stopped chewing. Harry felt all warm and fuzzy and strangely emotional. The moment ended when Ron reached over and tossed a chocolate frog on Harry's lap.
"Mate, if you've never had chocolate, your world is about to explode. I'm serious." After losing one chocolate frog and biting the head off of another before it could get away, he found that Ron was quite right.