Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction using characters, settings, and plot lines from the Harry Potter world owned by J.K. Rowling. I own nothing except original characters.

August 31st, 1991

It was decided. Diagon Ally was noisy, cramped, and obnoxious. Harry yanked his cousin down by an ear to avoid him getting his head knocked off by a floating trunk. The owner of said truck just waved a lazy hand in their general direction without slowing down. Harry felt affronted. While the ally was certainly magical and entertaining with its spinning lights and physics defying buildings it was also very busy. Since entering Aunt Petunia had grabbed both him and Dudley by the backs of their necks and all but bodily pushed them through the throngs of people. Previously, they had decided to wait until the day before Hogwarts to collect his material as hopefully the ally would be less busy. However, this did not appear to be the case. It seemed that most of the families were Hogwarts age and were also frantically scrambling for their supplies. Harry watched in amusement as two boys that seemed to be a year or two older than him made a stem and leaves grow out of their sisters red hair. At first confused, he recognized the joke as the girl started to scream at her two older brothers. Her pale face colored deep red and suddenly, with the red coloring and stem and leaves held a strong resemblance to a tomato. Nudging Dudley Harry tried to discreetly show him the joke with a flick of his eyes. Dudley, being Dudley, steamrolled over the term "discretion" and gwaffed loudly. It was loud enough for the girl to hear across the busy alleyway and whip around to fix them with a fierce scowl.

Harry felt a little bad for laughing at the girl now, but before he could try to shout sorry over the busy ally he was pushed into another throng of people by his Aunt. After a considerable amount of time using feet, sharp elbows, and a considerable sharper tongue (from his Aunt) they finally emerged on the other side of the crowd and onto the steps of a white marble bank. The bank towered over the rest of the ally with shining white marble spires piercing the sky and huge bronze doors that Harry imagined were big enough for a small giant to walk through. The building and doors were startling juxtaposition to the small creatures guarding the bank. Flanking the bronze door were two small creatures. Gray and squat with unnaturally long fingers and sharp yellowed teeth they made up for their short stature with wickedly sharp spears that had suspicious rust colored stains. Harry and Dudley could not stop staring until Aunt Petunia harshly pinched the soft skin of the backs of their necks and hissed in their ears

"Goblins. They guard the wizarding world's money. Savage creatures that love blood so STOP STARING"

Aunt Petunia jerked them up the stairs but was not quick enough as Dudley once again opened his mouth. Using what he probably considered a whisper but was in reality a soft roar he queered at Harry; "do you reckon they look like the hobbits in Tolkien's stories?"

Aunt Petunia choked on air; Harry wished the floor would swallow him. Dudley in all his stupid glory had just called dangerous, blood loving Goblins Hobbits in the presence of the SAID GOBLINS. He didn't know Goblin customs, but Harry begged to the Deities above that his stupid, innocent cousin had not just started a honor duel or something else out of a fantasy novel. If he did it would be hopeless. Harry would have to spend his shopping trip mopping Dudley's blood off the street instead of getting schoolbooks.

The Goblins in question leered at Dudley as his face blanched the color of curdled milk. They fingered their spears and licked their sharp needle pointed teeth. "The Hobbits were our weak-willed cousins. The Goblin Nation enjoyed killing them when they betrayed us to the wizard. Their blood painting the ground was Beautiful."

His Aunt made another choking whimpering sound and Harry felt his stomach roll. Feeling the glazes of the Goblin guards behind them Harry and Dudley didn't need their Aunts prompting to scramble up the stone steps and into the building. Goblins sat behind gold and jewel encrusted desks and slowly counted out piles of glittering gold, completely ignoring the witches and wizards that formed ques in front of them. Only after making them wait for what Harry could only assume was a significant amount of time would a Goblin turn to a customer and order them to "state their business." Harry couldn't help but think that their customer service skills were appalling. Ushering them behind one of the shorter lines their aunt sternly told them to be quiet. After the event on the stairs neither Harry nor Dudley needed to be told twice. That being said the line was long. And slow. And boring. Gold desks could only be interesting for so long after all. By the time they had gotten to the front to the que both Harry and Dudley were practically squirming with impatience. The Goblins desk was much bigger up close. Both of the boys were unable to see over the desk and instead tried to strain their eyes over the top edge by bouncing on their toes. The Goblin peered down its nose at them and sneered before peering at their stiff Aunt. "And what may Gringotts do for you today?"

Their Aunt reached into her big purse and withdrew a large manila envelope that bulged from overpacking and handed it to the Goblin. "We need to have these muggle notes exchanged for wizarding currency"

The Goblin peered into the envelope and upended it on his desk. Stacks upon stacks of neat crisp notes fell out. Harry stiffened at the sight of so much money. Where had his Aunt gotten this much money? He hoped she hadn't robbed anyone. The Goblin sniffed in disgust as he held one up "Paper. Such a worthless currency."

"And the exchange rate?" His aunt prompted

"One Galleon to five Pound Sterlings." The Goblin picked up a quill and made several notes on his book before turning and reaching under his desk. When he came back up his hands were clutching a black drawstring purse that he carelessly tossed to his Aunt. "100 Galleons for 500 Pound Sterlings. 1 Galleon is 17 Sickles and 1 Sickle is 29 Knuts. NEXT!" With that his Aunt ushered him and Dudley away from the Goblin Bank teller and towards the exit.

"Aunt Tuney where did that money come from?"

"Your savings"

"my savings?" Harry didn't realize he had a savings. The only savings he had ever had was a piggy bank named Grunt and he was sure that there had not been 500 Sterling Pounds inside it.

"Yes Harry, your savings. Your father gave us money every month for taking care of you. After you started showing signs of magic, we started to save the money for when you would go to Hogwarts."

"But shouldn't you use it? Don't you need it?"

"No Harry, this is your money, given to us to help raise you. We just decided the best way to help raise you was to save it for when you started Hogwarts."

"But I thought my father hated me?" Harry felt confused. If his father hated him and abandoned him why was he sending money for Harry's care?

His Aunt hesitated before replying "The money was most likely sent to help your father with any guilt he felt for leaving you. Truthfully, I don't know the full reason. You came into our custody very quickly and there was not much said. We were just told that we needed to raise you because you were not magical."

Oh. So that was the reason. Harry nodded thoughtfully. Yes, money to sooth lingering guilt made much more sense than his father actually caring for him. Besides if his father had really cared he wouldn't have given him up, or at least he would have visited. Either way Harry felt that there was a sort of poetry to the fact that the guilt money his father had given him to help him in the muggle world would be used to instead help him in the wizarding world. The same world his father thought he didn't belong in.

Walking with his list shoved under his nose he and Dudley hopped on their tip toes searching for the shops that they needed to buy Harry's school supplies. When they would spot a hopeful building, they would each grab one of Aunt Tuney's arms and pull her towards the shop. It was through this random hopping from shop to shop that they were able to precure a cauldron, trunk, smelly goop called potion ingredients, books, quills (Harry already planned to bring a packet of pens with him; quills just seemed ridiculous), and parchment. All that was left was his uniform and a wand.

Harry and Dudley could not have cared less about clothes, but they were quite excited by the idea of wand. All through the day they had seen witches and wizards wave the wooden sticks that ejected colorful streaks of light that Harry could almost feel as his chest cavity restricted with each burst of color. Towards the middle of the shopping trip Harry had taken to imagining what would happen when he got his wand and his life as a wise old warlock began; allowing his Aunt to drag him through shops in a daze. His Aunt moved with ruthless efficiency that seemed to frighten many of the witches and wizards around them (the term efficiency seemed to be nonexistent in this world – here chaos ruled supreme) as she hunted down school supplies hidden inside stores that had also never heard the word order or logic either.

It was though these combined efforts of Dudley, Petunia, and Harry that saw the shopping being completed in a record breaking two hours and Harry being shoved none too gently by his aunt onto a raised dais as she flagged down a shop attendant to get him a set of school robes. Dudley stood beside him sniggering quietly between making remarks about some robes looking like dresses and wouldn't it be so funny if Harry had to wear those? Harry dearly hoped he did not have to wear those robes. He had seen men walking through the ally with does robes on and they did bear an unfortunate resemblance to dresses. A scornful scoff came from slightly behind Harry. Jumping he and his cousin turned in tandem to the source of the noise. Previously unnoticed by both a boy roughly the same age was on a stool beside them. He had a pale face with a pinched look to it and as sharp nose. At first look he appeared to be bald only for a second consideration to reveal the unfortunate combination of white blond hair and a liberal use of hair gel that flattened the boy's hair to his scalp. "Can you two be anymore obnoxious? Wizarding robes are the height of fashion right now. You two must be mudbloods with your ignorance." The boy sniffed again and jutted his nose in the air. Harry didn't know what mudbloods meant, but assumed it was an insult by the derisive tone used. And Harry never could take an insult lying down.

"Well at least I don't look like and egg" Dudley gasped beside him

"I KNEW he remined me of something! An egg!"

Two spots of color rose on the egg boys cheeks as he whirled to face Harry. "I am not an EGG! I have one of the finest pedigrees in wizarding England! My features are NOBLE"

"Sorry mate, but you still look like an egg; your uh hair really isn't helping the image either" Dudley waved a hand vaguely at his own hair. The boy colored further and open his mouth to probably argue that he was not an egg when a matronly woman bustled up beside them.

"Alright then, your free to leave little Malfoy, your mother's waiting by the door"

With another sniff and the prompting motions by the woman he hopped off the stool and strutted to the from of the store, light glinting off his egg head.

"Now then, your Aunt says you need the whole Hogwarts package, yes?" the woman, Madam Malkin, Harry read stitched into her robes said

"er- yes mam" Harry's embarrassment however quickly faded to shock as the woman waved a hand and a tape measure began to measure him by itself. Harry had realized of course that this could happen, he new magic existed, but to have it operating up close and personal to him was very disconcerting. The tape measure slithered like a snake up and around his body appearing to measure everything. And just as quick as it started it ended with the tape measure falling to the floor between his feet. Dudley prodded it suspiciously with a finger. It didn't so much as twitch.

"Well darling that's it! I rang your Aunt up a while ago so you can meet her up front. Have fun at Hogwarts! Now then will you be needing anything" Harry jumped from the stool and his cousin backed away shaking his head profusely. Harry suspected that the magical tape measure had scared him. It did act like a snake. And Dudley wasn't fond of snakes.

Making their way to the front of the store they met up with Petunia.

"Well that's all boys! Last thing is to get Harry's wand! Then we can go home, and I can watch my soap opera!" Harry's Aunt, much more cheerful now with this decision, speedy lead the way down a row of shops until they reached one of the shabbiest places yet. The walls were unpainted and the widows grimy with only a single dusty wand on display. The swinging sign proclaimed this shop to be home of the finest wandmakers, Ollivanders since 382 BC. The shop certainly looked old enough for 382 BC.

Inside the shop was one spindly looking chair and towering shelves filled with rows and rows of long rectangular boxes. The boxes were stacked in towers that rose to the impossibly high ceiling in precarious positions. Looking at the tower beside him Harry edged backwards. He was afraid that if he breathed on it the whole thing would go crashing down. But despite the chaotic nature and dust particles floating everywhere the place thrummed with magic, deep and old that demanded to be respected. Even his aunt and cousin must have felt it because they had stayed silent and still upon entering - something that he knew was unnatural for them both.

The tension was only cut when another man appeared from behind the towers of boxes. The man was as strange as his shop – and as discerning. With wild thinning white hair that stood up in some areas and was patched in others and wide pale eyes he moved with surprising dexterity for a man of his age. Before Harry knew it the strange shopkeeper was in front of him.

"Harry Potter" his name was breathed past the man's lips and he along with his aunt and cousin stiffened. He had never given his name – a certainly not that one.

"It's Harry Evans actually" his aunt interjected with a firm undertone

"Evans is it? Well yes; He is as much Evans as he is Potter"

Harry felt his eye twitch.

"I am ONLY an Evans. Potter will never be my name"

The old man hunched over Harry as response. Harry hadn't even realized how tall the wand maker was until his head was tilted back staring into the man's faded eyes.

"Is that so? A son that denies his father. Will you kill him in your heart?"

"I have no father" Harry jerked his head from the wand maker's grip

"Well then – lets see to a wand Harry Evans; fatherless son of Lily Evans" The wandmaker disappeared back into the stacks of wands and returned with an armful. Miraculously none of the towers had fallen. Harry suspected magic was at play.

"I remember every wand that I have sold. And Every wizard and witch that I have sold to. Lily Evans – ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, willow"

As Ollivander talked Harry felt something slither across his foot. Looking down he yelped and saw that a measuring tape, like the one at Madam Malkins, twinning itself around his body measuring the oddest things. At one point he went cross eyes and fought a sneeze as the animated ruler thought it appropriate to measure his nostrils. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Dudley slowly backing away.

"Anyways try this – oh Merlin SHOO" Ollivander made shooing motions at harry and Harry stared back confusedly until the tape measure dropped dejectedly back to the floor. Harry watched with wide eyes as it slinked to a corner and curled into a ball.

"Sorry about that. The last customer turned my Crupp into a tape measure and the magic hasn't worn off yet. Teach Ginger to mess with customers when wand testing. Anyways – here try this one"

No sooner had Harry touched the wand than was it snatched away. And so it began. Wand after wand was shoved in Harry's hand before it was snatched up again. Sometimes he would hold one long enough for something around him to catch fire. Other times he would hold one and nothing would happen. More often though, Ollivander would take the wand back before anything that Harry could see would happen. The pile of discarded wands grew higher and higher around him but instead of being discouraged, the crazy man just seemed to get more and more excited.

"A tricky customer? Well don't worry we'll find a match!" Ollivander paused briefly and brought a hand to his chin "Well why not, hmm"

The man disappeared back into the stacks again to reemerge with only a single box. "Holly and phoenix feather, an unusual combination, but well"

Harry gently reached into the box and closed his hands around the wand. The wand shinned in the candlelight a warm honey brown. But Harry felt nothing. It was cold. Dead. He dropped the wand back into its container.

"Nothing then? Pity. And I thought for sure…"

Ollivander trailed off in a thoughtful silence as he eyed Harry once again. "Your mother died in a fire. You should have died in that fire as well. Fiendfyre is a hungry beast consuming friend and foe alike. But you survived" Harry felt his breath catch in his chest. Fire? His mother had died in a fire? Like some macabre joke of a witch burning? And he had been there? His aunts hand sneaked into his own and he squeezed it till their knuckles shone white. Ollivander returned from the stacks again only caring one box and ignoring the tension he had just created gently opened the box in front of him. "Fir and phoenix feather, slightly bendy, give it a wave"

When Harry picked up the wand, he knew it was the one. Warmth shot up his arm and brilliant gold and silver sparks shot from the tip. "Oh Bravo! You've found your wand!" Ollivander clapped his hands, expressing more glee than Harry, who at this point was exhausted. "That will be seven Gallons" His Aunt passed the wandmaker the appropriate amount and they turned to leave. As Harry and Dudley reached the door Ollivander called out again.

"Harry?"

Harry turned back around dread pooling in his gut. He hoped this was just a remined to polish his wand.

"Yes?"

"That wand is known as a Survivors wand. In all my years of trade the owners of fir wands have found themselves in inexplicably dangerous situations where life was not a guarantee"

That was the last that Harry heard as his aunt roughly shoved him outside wand whispered "ignore him"

But it didn't stop the dread from cementing in his stomach like a block of lead.

Yeah sorry this took awhile but writing this was really hard for me. i skipped over a lot of the shop detail because I didn't want to sound repetitive and because I was going slightly mad. Oh well!