A/N: Some of Danny's mannerisms are different than in the show because 1) he is younger and 2) he got pulled out of Amity before the hellhole of his high school. Much of the DP divergence in this fic can be attributed to his parents being more attentive to their kids' lives than they were in the show. More on that later.

Last updated 1/20/2020

Chapter Three
The Shopping Episode

Diagon Alley was a magical paradise, full of fantastic splendors and magical wonders. Even to this day, the memory of it remains firm in my mind. My first glimpse holds a special place in my memories, my first true experience with magic.

It was there that I made my first friend in the magical world, too.

Humanity

"Danny!" His mother called from downstairs, early in the morning. Danny groaned, placing his head in his hands. "Let's go shopping!"

"Now?" he yelled from upstairs. It was too early for this.

"Yes, now! Now hurry up and get ready. We're going to Diagon Alley."

So they went, Mom's orders. Jazz, who had never had any problems waking up early and desperately wanted to see magic for herself, went with them.

The real fun began once they got into the car.

His mom had never been a good driver – although she was slightly better than Jack, admittedly – and a year apparently hadn't been enough to get used to Britain's "crazy counterintuitive driving on the left side of the road!" (as Maddie muttered vehemently under her breath every so often). The fact that she wasn't familiar with the route, and her eleven-year-old son was calling out the directions, did not improve matters at all.

"Okay, so turn left here... No, wait!" Danny lifted both hands up into L shapes and looked at which hand actually formed the L, then compared it to the map. He dimly noticed a sharp jerk of the car as he focused on interpreting the directions. "Yeah, it's left."

"Sweetie, we already missed it," his mother said, in a very strained voice. Danny looked up at her with wide unblinking eyes, and grinned sheepishly.

"You know, I think if we just continued going forward there's another way to get there..." he offered.

"I think I'll take my chances with the U turn."

So it was that a couple of angry honks and a bad parking job later, they made it to their destination: the Leaky Cauldron. The outside of the tavern was quite decrepit, with visible signs of dust and rust. Danny glanced up to his mom, whose lips were pursed tight as a taut rope. Jazz peered at it curiously.

"Er... Is this the right place?" he asked, looking around nervously. "It just doesn't seem, you know, established enough." His mother nodded in agreement.

"Maybe... I suppose we can walk around a bit and see if anything is more –"

"Wait!" Danny had just caught sight of a small sign hung on the entrance door and skipped towards it eagerly. "This is the right place! See look, it says so right here."

But when he turned back to look, his mother's eyes were wide with alarm. Jazz too, looked at if she was astonished by his utter stupidity.

"Danny, come back here!"

"Mom?" he said, confused. He looked around, but no one else was there. He looked back, and now his mom was in front of him, dragging him away from the entrance.

"Danny!" she scolded once they were a suitable distance away, face pale. "Don't scare me like that. That building could have collapsed on you."

Jazz nodded her head emphatically, resembling a bobblehead doll as she agreed with their mother.

He stretched his neck around to look at the tavern once more. Collapsed on him? No, it wasn't in its best state, but it wasn't that bad. Maybe a bit rusty, but definitely not breaking down and rotting.

"Are you sure?" his mom asked with narrowed eyes, when he told them just that. "You see a normal, not rundown building right there?"

He nodded uncertainty, and she sighed.

"Alright. Show me where the door is, but do not, under any circumstances, come any closer until I say it's all right. Me, not anybody else, got that? Jazz, you stay right there."

Danny and Jazz traded looks. Danny raised an eyebrow at his sister. She was almost vibrating with curiosity now.

"So where do you see the door?" asked Mom.

Still feeling confused, Danny stepped forward, stopped, and then pointed to the door. His mom then strode forward in that direction confidently, albeit casting nervous glances upwards at something that just wasn't there. Finally, she reached the door, and with a hesitant shove, and then a harder push, opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron.

Suddenly, a look of wonder passed over his mother's face.

"Come on, kids!" she laughed. "It's fine! Come on in!"

Well, he had already known that it was fine.

Danny, rather disgruntled by the entire event, followed his mother into a dimly lit, cozy, and slightly shabby tavern room. Jazz, almost skipping now, followed them in.

Absolutely magical, Danny thought to himself. Spectaaacular. The greatest show I have ever seen, in the entirety of my existence: opening a door. What great wonders magic introduces to us magical-folk.

"So. Cool," Jazz whispered in his ear. She clearly hadn't developed the ability to read minds, and was walking like a contorted flamingo, head craned back towards the open doorway, legs plodding forward blindly, and just as silly-looking. She was also practically learning on Danny and violating his personal space. Danny shoved her away. As was proper.

At the bar counter was an old, balding man. He wore a pensive look on his face, was absentmindedly wiping down a mug, and had a striking aesthetic similarity to a coconut. When he saw he had customers, his look promptly transformed into a wide, friendly grin.

"Welcome! Now, you must be muggles, 'ent ya? Would you be heading straight off to Diagon Alley, or would you like a rundown about the magic world with a meal to go with it? You look a bit frazzled, if I may say it."

"Oh, that would be wonderful," replied Mom, smiling. "This whole business with magic has been very confusing for us, I have to admit. Any information would help a lot. We would love to have a meal, too."

She was very much in her friendly, sociable Mom persona, Danny noted. Not at all like how she acted at home.

"I'm happy to help." The man set down the mug and dish rag behind the counter. "You can call me Tom, just holler if you need anything. We have a great variety of foods here: soup, soup, and soups," he said, gesturing towards a very large portion of the chalkboard to his left, "as well as some pies and roast hog, if any of that would interest you."

Danny stared at the chalkboard in stupefaction. Variety of foods? But really, most of what was on there was some variety of leaky soup...

Oh. He smiled. He liked this bartender.

"What's a sickle?" he asked. "I mean... It's on the board?"

The man didn't fail to produce another companionable smile at his question.

"Ah, well, we have another system of currency in the Wizarding World. You'll have to go to Gringotts in Diagon Alley to exchange some of your muggle money to galleons, sickles, and knuts. Don't worry though, this meal is on the house."

"And how exactly does the exchange system work?" Maddie asked. "I assume muggle money means what we usually use here in Britain."

"You would be correct. The exchange rate is 'bout five pounds per galleon, our biggest currency. 17 sickles are in a galleon, and 29 knuts in a sickle."

Mom put on her thinking face.

"And how many... galleons, approximately, would we need to buy adequate supplies for the school year?"

"20 galleons, if you're careful with your money." The answer came so quickly it was obvious he had answered this question before. "Much more if you aren't."

Maddie frowned at the price, calculations whirling through her head. Her eyes briefly flicked from side to side, once, twice.

"I... see." She asked some more questions, but both Danny and Jazz soon lost interest. Soon enough, they ordered: Danny got the "leaky, leaky soup", Jazz the "leaky soup house", and Mom some variety of the "soup soup soup". Despite the unappetizing name, Danny's, at least, tasted pretty good.

Like the Nasty Burger back at Amity, a nostalgic part of him reminisced, and he winced at the homesickness that suddenly filled him. Hadn't a month been long enough already?

"Hey," Jazz nudged him, smiling. Her plate was clean, and to Danny's surprise, he realized his was too. "Ready to go?"

He nodded, then hopped down from the bar stool.

Tom then led them through the back of his shop to a brick alleyway. He pointed out a couple of bricks, saying these were the ones they needed to tap to get to Diagon Alley. Then he rapped the wall with his wand a few times, and suddenly, bricks began rearranging themselves to form a grand archway, right in front of their eyes.

And behind it –

Magic.

It was the only way to sufficiently describe the wonder that was Diagon Alley. It was every fairy tale combined together, every hope and dream a child could have come true. Broomsticks, cauldrons of gold. Intriguing potions ingredients laid out in one side. Danny was sure his eyes were shaped like saucers.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!" Tom laughed, delighting in their expressions. "You'll be wanting to go to Gringotts, just down at the bend of the street. When you get back, the archway will still be open. Good luck!" He clapped Danny and Jazz on their backs, then strolled his way back to the tavern.

The three Fentons were more than happy to begin exploring.

Wonder after wonder emerged and they never failed to delight. One hour in, and they hadn't even looked at the school checklist yet, simply strolling down the street to Gringotts, and occasionally – well, all the time really – stopping when something caught their eye. They saw cauldrons, wicked floating things that spun in the air, purple slugs bits, roasted chesnuts (not very magical, but the smell certainly was delicious), and all manners of, er, interesting wizarding wardrobes.

The bank itself was an impressive sight, when they finally reached it. Large and solid. And up the white marble steps, in front of the silvery doors, dressed in gold and scarlet, was a...

A thing, Danny eventually decided, was the honest way to put it, because there was no way that was human. Short, stubby, and gnarly with disproportionately long fingers and feet – and not to mention the ears – the creature simply did not look natural.

At the crest of the stairs, the stubby thing looked down upon him.

"Muggleborn?" it said, and to Danny's untrained ear, it bespoke condescension. The thing was literally looking down upon him, and what the heck, he didn't even know what "Muggleborn" meant.

He had to give credit, however, to his mother. She didn't look fazed in the slightest, walked up the stairs, and shook the thing's hand with a friendly smile.

"Maddie Fenton. I am a muggle, so I really don't know where to go here. The man at the Leaky Cauldron said there was a way to exchange our money for er, galleons?"

If Danny had been older and more learned in the ways of goblinkind, he would have recognized the strange bemused twitch of the lips of the goblin as a smile. He did not, however, and instead, shrunk into himself in... confusion? fear? revulsion? He didn't know himself. It was not his proudest moment.

"I am Gornuk," the strange creature said proudly, though the nasally tint clouding his voice made it seem like arrogance. "One of the goblins whose loyalty creates the strength of this bank. Fortius quo fidelius." He bowed, looking almost comical with his diminutive frame, and opened the grand silver doors with what seemed like very little effort. "The exchange desk is immediately to your right."

A smile quirked his mother's lips. "Thank you." And once they were inside, she turned to them, smiling. "I'm officially impressed. These wizards..." She shook her head, drinking in the site of the bank with obvious relish. An ornate chandelier hung from the roof, and the desks were fine mahogany. The air too had a fresh, yet homely feel, as if they were in a worn-out cabin in the woods. Goblins – or so he assumed they were goblins from that creature's speech at the door – scurried around everywhere, talking and leading around humans dressed like the wizards in fairy tales.

They quickly found the exchange desk, for a large sign hung over it stating "CURRENCY EXCHANGE DESK" in large, loopy letters.

"Hello," Maddie began as soon as the goblin looked up from the paperwork set on his fine desk. "We'd like to exchange some of our money to galleons?"

Honestly, it was just like when they first arrived to Britain. All the boring money-exchanging stuff. Danny quickly spaced out, and it was only when the gold was brought out when he started to get interested.

"Whoa," he said, eyes wide. "Is that actual gold?"

The creature's mouth was pursed in disapproval, and Maddie shot him a look. He refused to look repentant.

"Yes, it is 'actual gold'," it said mockingly (or so it still sounded to his ears), pulling the gold toward itself and wrapping it into a neat package. "The coins are minted however, so it would not be wise to spread them among Muggles lest you wish to break the International Statute of Secrecy." The emphasized sneer told what exactly the goblin thought about the "statute."

Danny didn't know what minted meant, but this time, he stayed quiet about it. He looked at Jazz, thinking she would poke fun at him, but she was strangely pensive.

"Ah, I see." His mother was careful to keep her expression neutral as the creature pushed over the pouch of gold over to her. She soon tucked it into her purse, the muggle money already handed over. "Thank you for all the help."

The goblin bowed his head. "Of course."

When they were out of the bank and back in the street, Danny nudged Jazz. "You've been quiet. What's up?"

Jazz gave him a startled glance.

"It's just," she said, breathing in deeply. "So much."

"I know what you mean," he said, looking around. "It's wonderful."

"And so different," Jazz said, voice growing quiet. "It makes me wonder too. At first I was so excited, but now I'm just thinking…"

Danny almost stumbled over a fat cat that was just casually crossing the street, so he missed her next words.

"What?" he asked.

"I mean," Jazz said, "We've been studying science for years, haven't we? Conservation of energy, and all that? Doesn't all this," she swooped her hand around in an inclusive gesture, "mean that all of that is wrong?"

Danny frowned. "What's so wrong with that? Isn't that, you know, more exciting, 'cause you know something that no one else knows?"

"But -" She frowned back at him, fiercely. "No, because that means that everything we've been learning is -"

"Come on, kids," their mom's voice interrupted, stopping her short. "We're here, at our first stop."

They looked up: the sign read 'Ollivander's Wand Shop'. Like much of the wizarding world, the store had a certain rough charm to it. Dusty old wooden building? thought Danny. Who wouldn't want to just march right in?

He eyed Jazz. She still looked lost in thought. Too surly. He resisted the temptation to poke her.

"Hello?" Maddie called out as she led the way into the dusty old building. "Is anybody – gah!"

Strangely bright eyes and stark white hair emerged from the dark, painting a picture of an almost ghostly figure, albeit less green. The man wore a tweed, dusty suit, and seemed to almost melt into the surroundings: tweedy, dusty bookshelves filled with tweedy, dusty boxes. Danny was not surprised that he had startled his mother.

Mr. Ollivander - who else could he be? - cleared his throat. "Would you be wanting to buy a wand?"

For a second, they all stared at him. This clearly did not work like muggle shopping.

"I'm going to go sit down for a bit and journal," Jazz whisper-mouthed to Danny and Maddie, pointing towards a dusty chair by the windowsill. She then surreptitiously pulled out a notebook and booked it for the chair.

Danny, Maddie, and Mr. Ollivander remained.

"So how does this work?" asked Danny, struggling not to fidget.

A ghost of a smile crossed the man's lips. Then he spoke, his words ricocheting into action, suddenly inventing a reality where it was impossible for this shop was full of so little noise, of awkward silences, of a lack of Mr. Ollivander's distractedly excited voice.

"Ah, of course, of course, I see. Muggleborn, are you? There will be no famed selection of wands I'm afraid, for it is as you will see, the wand chooses the wizard. Hold up your wand arm please, Mister..."

Quizzically, Danny held up his right hand. He wondered about the man's words however, casting a curious gaze once more at the "wands." They chose him? Could they think?

"Fenton," Maddie coughed. "I'm Maddie, and this is Danny. Jazz is my daughter, over by the window, there."

A tape measurer, unaided by nothing but air, flew past his nose and began measure his arm, his head, his ears. He stared at it in stupefaction, jaw dropping.

So. Cool.

And to think, that he, little freak Danny Fenton, would be able to do that one day. He lifted his eyes back towards the man, eyes wide with wonder.

"How did you do that?" he asked in jealous awe. Ollivander smiled indulgently, but his eyes were distracted, watching the tape measurer with surprising alacrity. The man was soon deep into his own store, the shuffling sound of boxes being moved and drawers being opened accompanying the resonating reply. Shhhp, click. Shhhp, click.

"Magic," the wandmaker replied, sounding captivated, just from saying the word.

Danny peered around the edges of the shelves curiously at the man. He was now on a rickety tall ladder, rapidly sifting through piles of boxes that somehow managed to stay straight and upright even as the man jerked them around.

"What are you doing?" he said after there was a pause long enough to seem awkward to him. The wandmaker however, Danny realized, had not noticed the pause at all, so intensely was he concentrated on his work.

"Searching," Ollivander replied seamlessly. "For a wand that might fit you. Are you familiar with how wands are created?"

Danny blinked. How on earth would he – ? He hadn't even known magic existed two weeks ago.

"Er, no."

Ollivander climbed down the ladder with alarming speed, and he worried for a moment that the old man would fall. Instead, the man landed on his feet lightly, left arm stacked with two small boxes, pushed the ladder over, and resumed his search.

"Every wand has unique properties. In our wands, however, we use only the three most effective materials for wand cores: unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, and Phoenix feathers. Then each wand is paired with a wood type, each with its own temperament and behavior. To marry a core to a wood takes a tremendous amount of effort and care, a tremendous amount." He picked up another box and scampered down, finally turning to look at Danny.

Danny felt like a fish, with all the times his mouth had just popped open today. Was this another wonder of magic, or simply an old man's surprising spryness?

"Dragons exist?" His mind chose to fixate on the most badass thing he had heard about magic so far. He spared a glance at his mother, who looked just as shocked as him, although that might've just been her expression the entire time during the venture into the Wizarding World. Or maybe she was still thinking about ghosts.

Ollivander smiled once again, and Danny found he liked the ways the crinkles shaped his old face, making it seem come to life along with that driven intensity in his eyes. "Unicorns, as well," he said, and the inflection of his voice seemed to invite Danny into some sort of inside joke.

He beamed at the wandmaker.

Suddenly the tape measurer that he had already forgotten about – how was he becoming so accustomed to this magical world so fast? – dropped to the floor with a clutter. The moment was broken, and the man stepped forward with a pile of three boxes in his arms.

"These are the wands most likely to choose you, I would think. Here, give this one a wave and see how it feels. "

Danny tentatively took the stick into his hand, then was flustered because it was immediately obvious he had taken it from the wrong end. He flipped it over when –

"Ah, no." The wandmaker who had just a moment ago been watching him with such an expectant gaze, quickly snatched the wand out of his hand. Danny attempted to give a cry of protest, but before his mouth opened another wand was pushed into his hands. "Try this one – ash wood with unicorn hair, eight inches. Stubborn and rigid, to go with the ash."

The wandmaker looked rather pleased with himself when there was an immediate reaction, sparks of green and white shooting from the edge of the wand as he waved it.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "I was right about you. I'm sure you'll turn out to be a great wizard, Mr. Fenton. However –" and here he looked quite stern, "you must be aware that mistreating this wand will have great consequences. This combination of unicorn hair and ash wood is very potent: faithful to its master, but grows quickly despondent at mistreatment. Passing this wand to another would be a great mistake."

Danny nodded, feeling dazed. There seemed to be a warmth in the pit of his stomach that he somehow knew came from holding the wand, his wand, and he wondered for a moment why anyone would ever mistreat a wand. He resolved to be a good caretaker of his new-found friend.

"Thank you," he said numbly.

Ollivander smiled, and Danny tried his hardest to return it. "The wand will be 9 galleons," Ollivander then said, looking at his mom.

"Nine?" Maddie was surprised. "I thought it was supposed to only be seven."

"Ah, yes, that would be correct for most wands," the wandmaker said. "However, I'm afraid that unicorn hair is a bit more expensive than the other two wand cores, and thus the price had to be raised accordingly. Are you still able to pay for the wand?" He was not so subtly inquiring about their financial circumstances, head cocked to the side curiously, like an owl with those strange bright eyes now focused on his mother.

"Um, yes." Maddie drew out the pouch the goblin at Gringotts had given her early and carefully counted out nine gold coins before handing them over. Ollivander accepted them graciously.

"I wish you a pleasant entrance into our Wizarding World," he said earnestly.

Nine galleons lighter and one wand more, after grabbing Jazz they left the shop. Danny glanced back at the strangely charming entrance, remembering the sight of some of the first real magic he'd seen. He then looked at Jazz, who was clutching her notebook in her arms, looking satisfied with herself.

Too satisfied. He resisted the temptation to poke her again, and settled for making a face at her. She returned it.

"Come on, we'll go get your school clothes next," his mom then said.

And so they went to Madam Malkin's, the shop for young witches' and wizards' robes, the entire way making faces at each other. At one point, Danny tried to snatch her notebook, but she swatted his hand away easily.

"Huh," said Jazz, abandoning their game once they entered the shop. It was clean, quiet, and utterly unlike the ramshackle, whimsical mess that was the rest of Diagon Alley. "I wonder if she's in your class?"

A girl of his age stood on the dais, looking terribly embarrassed as a woman flitted around her, taking measurements and pinning needles to the black fabric wrapped around her.

It was then that the woman noticed them.

"Oh!" She looked delighted. "Welcome, welcome!" She extradited herself out from the layers of black cloth and patted the girl's shoulder. "Sorry, dear. I'll just be a moment." She then trotted to a door in the side, opened it wide, and then took a deep breath –

"Miss Malkin, there are more customers!" she called loudly.

Soon an elegantly-dressed wizard was walking hastily through the door. Madam Malkin visibly composed herself as her eyes roved curiously over the family. Her gaze paused on Danny, seemingly assessing him, before turning back to the other woman and the girl wrapped in black cloth, standing very sheepishly, as if she was wondering what to do with herself and how exactly she should stand to attract the least attention.

Madam Malkin cleared her throat.

"I will take care of these people," she said primly, gesturing with to the Fentons with the slightest tilt of the head. "You may continue your work with Miss Granger." An elaborate hand gesture.

She turned to us, all pleasantries and smiles.

"Welcome! I must apologize for the inconvenience; we had not been expecting many visitors until later in the summer. You understand, I hope?"

"No?" Too late, Danny realized it hadn't really been a question, and it hadn't been intended for him either. Fortunately, the woman did not remark on it, simply smiling kindly.

"Most students come to get their robes closer to the beginning of the school year. You are simply unusually early..." A curious expression crossed her face and she turned to Maddie. "Your son is here for robes for the first year of Hogwarts, correct? Standard, black?"

His mother nodded, and a bright smile lit the woman's face.

"Wonderful. Now, I would need to tailor the robes to fit, as my assistant is currently doing with Miss Granger. Would you mind if I took him aside for a few minutes to do so? I can conjure a chair for you and your daughter if you so wish."

"That would be perfect."

From a cleverly concealed pocket, the witch whipped out her wand. A few flicks, and suddenly there was a rather nice wood table, a tea set, and two chairs set around it. He heard a small sound rather like a gasp coming from Jazz, but when he turned to look at her, she seemed perfectly cool and collected and not at all in awe. Though Danny saw how she clutched her notebook tighter, as if she were just itching to write something in it. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Thank you," Maddie said gratefully. "How much would this cost?"

"Five galleons," Madam Malkin answered promptly, "for three sets of robes that will last for two years at Hogwarts, as well as the hat, protective gloves, and winter cloak. I charm them to grow with the wearer and remain clean, so unless your son suffers some mishap, I doubt you will need to replace them unless he reaches an unexpected growth spurt. Or if anything egregious happens." She smiled. "But I doubt that will happen."

"Wow," he heard Jazz whisper quietly to herself. He wasn't sure if she was impressed by the magic, the woman's presentation of the clothing, or both, and decided to re-evaluate his sister-reading skills.

"Thank you," Maddie said again. "Should I pay you after we receive the robes?"

"That would do," answered Madam Malkin genially, before turning to Danny. "Come over here." She led him to the dais, next to where "Miss Granger" was being fitted. He shot a curious look at the girl, who was also staring at him, before fidgeting nervously. Malkin left to get more cloth.

"Hello," blurted the girl first, a fact that he was infinitesimally grateful for.

"Hello," he responded, just as awkwardly.

A pause. Madam Malkin returned, and he could feel himself flush red when she began measuring the cloth size around him. He thought he could feel the eyes of his mother, his sister, and the girl, boring into him.

He twitched, and felt the prick of a needle for it.

"Sorry," Madam Malkin muttered absentmindedly, and now he resolved to keep himself as still as possible.

Silence. He was all too aware of the girl's gaze on him. It became unbearable.

"So," he said, then flounder for anything, anything to say. "Er... Magic's real."

It was such an embarrassingly stupid thing to say, because of course magic is real, I'm going to go to a freaking magic school and so is she – but somehow, it made her break into a smile.

"You're Muggleborn?" she exclaimed, and for a moment all he wanted to do was curl into himself but he couldn't because of that stupid needle, "You're like me!"

Like me. He took a long moment to process that, mulling it over in his head before the meaning finally became so dazzlingly obvious.

"Oh." He said, feeling stupid. "You're Muggleborn too?"

And then it came to him. She was Muggleborn too. She didn't know anything about magic, just like him. She was like him.

A bell chimed, and he was rudely shoved from his thoughts. He looked up to see a middle-aged couple enter the store.

"Hermione, we're back!" the man called out, and the girl's face turned a furious shade of red as she smiled, creating the impression that she was pleased but desperately didn't want to show it. The man's gaze swung to Danny. "Oh, do you have a new friend already?"

"Dad!" the girl protested, still blushing. "I don't – I don't even know his name."

Something called him to speak these words, words that he usually would've never dared to speak before in front of such strangers. What could he say? Magic was making him bold.

"I'm Danny Fenton." Oh, how the words came easily now. His last name, spoken with pride rather than embarrassment. "We can be friends now, right?"

He honestly didn't know what possessed him to ask the question of a stranger. It seemed to have been met with good reception, however. The girl was now bright pink.

"Of – of course!" she squeaked, then cleared her throat. Her eyes flicked to her parents for a moment. "Of course we can be friends," she said in a much calmer voice. "Er... I'm Hermione Granger."

"I know." Oh god, that was the worst, most stalkerish thing to ever say. He lost the strange confidence he had only moments earlier. "I – I mean, your parents just called you Hermione and... Um. It's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too," she said in the way children do when they try to act adult, firm and confident.

A pause.

"I'd shake your hand, but," she said, less awkwardly than before, "I really don't want to get hit by a pin."

He laughed, and suffered for it with exactly what she had feared. Hermione was much more fortunate, and in fact, the attendant had backed off and proclaimed her work done. Soon there was a girl, not wrapped in black cloth, but wearing regular muggle clothes, standing in front of him.

His first friend in the wizarding world.

He smiled, and hoped that it wouldn't end badly, butterflies making his stomach queasy.

Growing Up

After Madam Malkin's, the two families decided to join forces in navigating the currents of this strange magical world. They were both Muggle families with wizard children after all, and they had to stick together.

... Just like the brainiacs of the century apparently had to "stick together" as well.

No, Danny wasn't jealous at all. Just... bitter about it. Bitter and upset. But not jealous. What was there to be jealous of? His sister, who had just stolen his first friend in the magical world? His mom, who was looking like she was having a jolly good time of it with Hermione's parents? Hermione herself, who seemed to have found someone who actually operated in the same intellectual spheres?

"Danny?" Of course Jazz was the first to notice something was wrong. Except, she didn't look as concerned or all psycho-analytic mode as he thought she would. Instead, her face glowed, her cheeks red and her feet seemed to skip across the ground, light as air. "Why are you hanging in the back like that? Come on, race you to the bookstore!"

He found himself brightening up before he could stop himself. A smile quirked at his lips. He couldn't stay upset for long.

Nevermind that none of them knew where the bookstore was, the challenge was immediately taken up by all three. Dancing and laughing, they ran around the busy street of Diagon Alley, ignoring the worried calls of their parents.

"I see it!" Danny called excitedly when Flourish and Blotts came into view, forgetting that in a race, maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to tell the opponent where the finish line was. Then again, the game wasn't really about winning.

It didn't hurt, however, that he was still the first one to touch the rackety wooden outside of the store. He turned a victorious grin to the other two.

"Ha! Beat that!" he crowed to Jazz unthinkingly. A moment later he felt embarrassed because Hermione seemed to have taken the challenge just as personally as Jazz, but he shrugged the feeling off. This careless freedom was much better than acting the part of a sequestered shy boy.

"Yeah, yeah," Jazz grumbled good-naturedly. "Next time I'll squash you."

"Well, I won this time," he retorted impudently, suddenly relishing in the glory of victory once more. "And I'm younger than you."

"We'll beat you next time," Hermione vowed, her cheeks flushed red. Danny couldn't help but grin at her.

"Keep dreaming."

The adults arrived. The Grangers were panting hard, hands on their knees as they gasped for breath, but Maddie was in perfect shape as she cooly walked over to the children. Danny gulped.

"Hey, Mom." He got the sudden feeling that he had done something utterly and catastrophically wrong.

"Danny," she crouched down to meet him eye to eye and frowned severely. "Tell us before you run off next time, alright?" He was taken aback by the sweet tone in her voice, but was immensely grateful when she stood up and turned to Jazz.

"And that means you too, Jazz." His sister nodded head eagerly, but Danny couldn't help but notice how unrepentant she looked. What, was his goody two-shoes sister actually committing a thoughtcrime (so to speak) against the undeniable power of authority?

Must be that teenager stage Mom always grumbled about.

Suddenly, he realized how uncomfortable Hermione looked, as she watched the Fenton children be reprimanded and her parents moving closer after having caught their breath.

"It was fun while it lasted, right?" he said tentatively.

"What?" She looked surprised. "Oh, yes. It was. Um." She shifted her weight around. "My parents aren't really mad, you know. I think they're just happy I made a friend."

Danny looked up to find the truth of her words. Rather than the stern expression Mom had donned, both of her parents' faces were grinning widely.

"Did you win?" her mother asked teasingly, kind eyes twinkling, when they caught up to the kids.

"No." Hermione grinned sheepishly as them. "Danny did." Despite her previous challenge, she seemed awfully pleased by her words.

"Well," her father butted in, "I'm sure you'll win next time."

Hermione lit up further, and she turned to Danny excitedly.

"Did you hear that? Next time. We should meet up before we arrive at Hogwarts – oh, does your family have a phone I could call? I heard all about the way wizards send mail – you know, by owl – but I think by phone is much easier. If, well, if you'd like me to call you." Her voice had trailed off uncertainly by the end.

Danny took a moment to process everything she had just said.

"Sure," he said, before realizing the word wasn't quite adequate. "That'd be great. If you called." He looked away from her for a moment to find everybody listening in to this almost painfully awkward conversation. "Um, the number is 7 – " Then he realized that was the phone number they had in Amity Park, and quickly backtracked. "Actually, I don't remember, but I think Mom would know?" He turned to her with pleading eyes, because he knew she had been listening.

"Of course," she interjected smoothly. "I'll give your parents our contact information as soon as we sit down. But for now, let's go into the store and get our school supplies, all right?"

The notion was met with a general murmur of agreement, and thus it was that the Fenton family and the Granger family entered Flourish and Blotts together.

Hermione and Jazz were immediately off as soon as they caught sight of pages both aged and white, flitting eagerly from shelf to shelf, but Danny was left staring daunted at the vast number of thick bindings and the sheer size of the library. Where to start?

This time, Maddie didn't look too concerned at discovering where Jazz had disappeared off to; a bookstore seemed safe enough, after all. "Come on, let's ask an assistant where we can find all of your books."

And so the party dispersed.

With the aid of an assistant, it had been surprisingly easy to find the necessary books for first year classes at Hogwarts. However, after the stack of required books were collected and paid for, Danny found himself being persuaded to roam the wonders of the library with Hermione and Jazz. It was hardly difficult to coax him into following them; there wasn't much better to do after all.

Hours passed. He watched bemusedly as Hermione or Jazz cried out in excitement as finding a particularly interesting title, and despite his proclaimed lack of enthusiasm, Danny found himself gravitating towards the pages of black and white ink that he allegedly detested. After all, what sane person wouldn't be attracted to such intriguing subjects such as 100 Jinxes to Curse Your Worst Enemies (he again thought of all the times that he had wished he could've done something nasty to the jocks in school), or A Draconian History (because no matter what Ollivander thought, dragons were the most awesome thing to have ever actually existed), or even Muggle Legends (Hermione had handed it to him and he had been skeptical at first, but was soon overcome by laughter from the sheer outrageousness of how wizards portrayed the outside world).

At last, however, it was time to go.

"We already picked up all my other supplies," Hermione said regretfully, staring at her shoes. "We were saving the library for last, and it's already getting late..."

"Oh!" He supposed that made sense. "Well, make sure to call sometime soon. I had a lot of fun," he said, and couldn't help but add, "even if most of the time was spent in a bookstore –"

"Hey!" Hermione protested immediately, the shy act gone. "What's wrong with a bookstore? I bet you found it very educational –"

"Right, educational."

"And I know I saw you laughing!" she concluded, her nose stuck in the air as if to say, so there! Danny could recognize when he was beaten.

"Well, I suppose..." he paused, waiting.

"Suppose what?" she asked haughtily.

"It wasn't so bad," he conceded, and she grinned.

"See! Here, I can recommend you loads of good books that I know you'll like – "

"Er, no, that's fine."

"I think it'd be an excellent idea." Jazz had somehow snuck up from behind him, and he started. "If anyone can get him to admit the joy of reading, it'll be you, Hermione." Her arm snaked over to ruffle Danny's hair.

"Gah! Jazz!" He made his best attempt to remain dignified, but knew he had failed at Hermione's snort of laughter.

"Well, I suppose I better get going now," Hermione said, smiling. "Oh, just –" Then, she did a very strange thing.

She hugged him.

It was quick and painless. Her face turned bright red afterwards and she let out a squeal of embarrassment, made many rushed apologies. Danny was dazed through it all.

"Thank you! And sorry!" she said again, as she turned around to rush after her parents. "I'll definitely call!"

Then she was gone.

"Oh, you like her," Jazz said, nudging him in the side.

"Shut up, Jazz."