A/N: Yes, I know I said I'd have it out last weekend, but I was in Canada. And there was a storm. That knocked out the Internet. And when I got home, there was an earthquake. No joke. And if you think its bad you didn't get your chapter on time try living with no email, no fanfiction, and no music. It was awful and I almost had a nervous breakdown. Anyways….Onward with the story!
Disclaimer: I am not the owner of anything affiliated with the Harry Potter franchised. That belongs to the fabulously wealthy J.K. Rowling. The plot idea belongs to PlotBunny2010. I just adopted it out of the goodness of my heart. Feel free to praise me. :)
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A/N= blah
Chapter 4: Diagon Alley
BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.
"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.
There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.
"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed!"
There was a pause. Then –
SMASH!
The door was hit with such force that it swung off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.
A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangles beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.
What in the…Harry thought.
Hmph. So they sent Hagrid.
The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.
"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"
He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.
"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.
Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.
"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.
Harry peered up into the shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.
"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."
Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.
"I demand you leave at once sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"
"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.
Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.
I like him, Harry confided to Tom.
Yes, he's gullible and easy to manipulate. He'll be a good source of information.
You –
"Anyway – Harry," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."
From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it; inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.
Harry opened his mouth and tried to say 'thank you', but as usual it didn't come out. The giant didn't seem to notice though, he just kept talking.
"I haven't introduced meself have I? Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."
He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm.
"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."
His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled up chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the damp hut with a flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.
The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.
Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a word as the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you Dudley."
The giant chuckled darkly.
"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."
He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Finally, as nobody else seemed about to explain anything, he rather timidly tapped the giant on his arm.
"Yes?"
Harry held up his hand and made several scribbles in the air.
The giant scratched his head, "Err, yeh want summit to write with? Why?"
Harry nodded, but then pointed over at the Dursleys for assistance with the explanation.
"Dursley?" the tone was dark, the unspoken question heard quite clearly.
"T-the boy doesn't speak. At all. Not since we found him." said Uncle Vernon, stuttering just a little.
"What?" the giant rumbled. "Tha's ridiculous. The boy talked jus' fine when 'e was just a baby. Harry is this true?"
Harry nodded, and made a scribbling gesture again.
He's just as dim as I recall too.
Shut up, Tom.
"Ah, hang on o' sec'. I think I got summit here." the giant muttered, ruffling through his coat. After searching several pockets he came up with a crumpled piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink, which he then handed to Harry.
Harry bent over and hurriedly wrote, {I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are.} He held it so the giant could see.
That's the best you could come up with? Pitiful.
If you aren't going to help the situation then just be quiet.
The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."
{No, I don't.}
Hagrid looked shocked.
Harry quickly scribbled, {Sorry.}
"Sorry?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"
{All what?}
"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!"
He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.
"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy – this boy! – knows nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"
Harry thought this was going a bit far, he had been to school and his marks weren't bad. They weren't great either because far surpassing Dudley in any venture was not wise if he wanted his home life to remain stable. He thought this better, however, to not share at the moment.
Hagrid turned to him and asked, a bit desperately, "Yeh can't mean ter tell me that yeh don' know anythin' about our world? Your world? My world? Yer parents' world?"
Getting no reply from a queried, Tom? Harry had to rely on other means of information.
{What world?}
Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.
"DURSLEY!" he boomed.
Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry, who was getting a strong urge to back away from the whole situation.
"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."
{My parents weren't famous, were they?}
"Yeh don' know…yeh don' know…" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.
"Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he finally said.
Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.
"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"
A far braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.
"You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years."
Harry had the same feeling of watching a car rolling downhill. That initial innocent motion that gathered speed and force before bursting all at once at the bottom of the hill. He felt the conversation nearing the end of the track with a lot of speed, he just wasn't sure where he wanted to stand when it hit.
What have they been keeping from me?
"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic while Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.
"Ah. Go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry – yer a wizard,"
There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and whistling wind could be heard. Harry lowered his gaze to the floor and thought furiously. He was in concentrating so deeply he only looked up when he heard, "an' I reckon it be abou' time yeh read yer letter."
Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald ink to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He pulled out the letter and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
More questions were running through Harry's head than before he had read the letter. He eventually settled on, {What does it mean, they await my owl?}
"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping his hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl – another, longer roll of parchment, and a fluffier quill than the one Harry currently held. With his tongue between his teeth he wrote a note that Harry could read upside down:
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
Given Harry his letter.
Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.
Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.
Hagrid
While he was writing Harry took the opportunity to try to get some answers out of the one person who could hear him.
Tom, you were telling the truth, all this time?
Obviously. Well, he was replying, that was something.
Who is Dumbledore? Where am I going? And how did he get here in this storm?
Calm down, and be quiet.
I am being quiet. I'm always quiet. Can't talk, remember?
Do you want answers or not, ungrateful brat?
…Yes please.
I thought so. Dumbledore is not to be trusted, whatever anyone else tells you, remember that. The oaf over there will likely take you to London, and if you want to know how he got here, I suggest you ask him. Stupid boy. was added almost as an afterthought.
Harry blinked as Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.
Harry realized he was wearing an unguarded expression of blank confusion and quickly schooled it into something more unreadable, except as polite interest.
"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.
"He's not going," he said.
Hagrid grunted, "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like yerself stop him," he said.
What's a Muggle?
A derogatory term used for those unable to perform magic and unaware of its existence. These bunch you live with are the most disgusting example of them I've ever seen.
Oh.
Harry processed that, then filed it away for later use.
"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," Uncle Vernon was saying, "swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"
Harry's eyes narrowed. His family had known he was a wizard? They had known about magic and hadn't said a word to him?
Aunt Petunia fixed her eyes on him as if she'd forgotten his existence in her terror, but the fear was fading being replaced with something Harry couldn't identify.
"You!" she shrieked suddenly, "How could you not be, my dratted sister being who she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that school – and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"
Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Aunt Petunia lose it like this before. He didn't especially feel anything except a faint wish that his Great Uncle and Aunt Evans were still alive, as he had a suspicion that he would have been shipped off to live with them.
She had stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had wanted to say all this for years.
"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – abnormal – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"
Harry was feeling a bit numb in the face of such raw emotion thrown at him. He was running a phrase through his head that didn't sit quite right with him. He glanced down at the piece of parchment now clutched in his fist, Huh? When had that happened?, smoothed it, and carefully wrote one statement.
{You told me my parents died in a car crash.}
Hagrid leaned over to read it, and turned red.
"CAR CRASH!" he roared, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"
The anger faded from Hagrid's face and he looked suddenly anxious.
"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off to Hogwarts not knowing."
He threw the Dursleys a dirty look, "'speck I'll explain it all in the mornin'. It migh' take awhile."
But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.
"Haven't I told you he's not going?" he hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish – spell books and wands and –"
"If he wants ter go, a Muggle like you won't stop him," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbled-"
"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.
But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER –" he thundered, "- INSULT – ALBUS – DUMBLEDORE – IN – FRONT – OF – ME!"
He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley – there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back to them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.
Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one terrified one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.
Harry though that, given how Hagrid had entered the premises, a door wasn't much of a safety barrier.
That was an amusing punishment, though not very lasting. I've always found that a permanent lesson is more likely to stick in the future. Besides, I agreed with your uncle on this particular point.
Be nice.
Me? Nice? You must be joking.
Harry looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.
"Shouldn't a lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig already there wasn't much left ter do."
Or your magical ability is so unstable it results in poor spell casting.
Will you stop? I'm trying to pay attention here.
He cast a sideways look at Harry under his bushy eyebrows.
"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm – er – not supposed to do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff – one o' reasons I was so keen ter take on the job –"
How he does ramble on. Tom sounded like he was getting a great deal of amusement over the conversation. Harry felt a bit sorry for Hagrid. A bit.
Tom, I'm warning you.
Harry flipped the parchment over, he was starting to run out of room, and wrote, {Why aren't you supposed to do magic?}
"Oh, well – I was at Hogwarts meself but I – er – got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore.
Or senile.
Go bugger yourself.
{Why were you expelled?}
"It's gettin' late an' we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get yer books an' all that."
Not even a decent evasion. Oh yes, he was most definitely enjoying himself.
Harry sighed and gave up trying to make Tom behave.
Hagrid took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.
"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry's eyes opened nearly an hour after Hagrid had fallen asleep on the collapsed sofa. Sifting a bit of the coat off him, he squinted by the remaining firelight and reread the letter several times.
Tom?
What? the answer came almost immediately.
Do you ever sleep?
Occasionally. Was that all you wanted?
No, you distracted me. I'm curious about some things here. Can you help me out?
Why should I? I do believe I was told to, what was it? Oh yes, 'go bugger myself.' Figure it out on your own.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Please explain this to me.
You realize I have other things to do with my time other than help you?
Harry grit his teeth. So Tom was going to be deliberately infuriating was he? It was working but he wasn't going to let him know that.
Yes, I'm sure you do. Very important things. I just thought that you wouldn't want me to get too confused and 'accidentally slip' that I have a voice in my head….named Tom….plotting world domination now would I? Would that rank on your important things to do, hmm?
You are very close to being put through unspeakable torture for the headache you've been giving me the past years.
You've already threatened me with that. Don't you have anything new?
Harry got the snarl through the bond loud and clear. I take that as a no?
Ugh, tell me what you want and then leave me alone.
Just to answer a few questions. Does that sound so hard?
Fine. Hurry it up.
Great. Firstly, this Hogwarts school, you went there didn't you?
Yes.
When did you go there?
Before you were born. came the snarky reply.
Okay then. Why am I not supposed to trust Dumbledore? And does the same go for this McGonagall woman?
Dumbledore is a scheming old man. It would be foolhardy to take anything he says as truth. Though he will most likely say little, and imply much, leaving you to draw your own conclusions. Usually wrong conclusions. McGonagall is his second in command, so the same goes for her, though I am not fully sure of her motives, she will back Dumbledore in any venture. You will have to watch the both of them when you arrive at Hogwarts.
Hmm. Harry scanned the letter again, and was reminded of a past puzzlement.
What's the 'Supreme Mugwump'?
The title for the head of the International Confederation of Wizards.
Harry was sidetracked briefly. How on earth did they come up with that?
The term 'Mugwump' refers to a leader, derived from an Algonquian word meaning 'great chief'. Tom sounded like he was reciting from a history book. A dry, boring one. Harry told him such.
Tom got angry, If you don't want to know, then don't ask! Now, was there anything else you wanted to bother me with?
Sufficiently chastened Harry apologized, was ignored, and moved on with the interrogation.
Do you know why my parents were famous?
Yes, Tom sounded bitter.
Harry waited a minute. Are you going to tell me?
No.
You're insufferable, you know that?
Yes, I'm aware.
Harry sighed. Some people you just couldn't insult. Tom, what, exactly, did you learn at Hogwarts?
Me? I learned to manipulate people so they thought you were a god, god was the devil, wrong was right, and right was wrong. I learned how to gather an army of loyal followers.
I was being serious.
So was I.
There was silence for a moment before Tom continued.
They teach, the word was laced with sarcasm, incredibly basic spells, enchantments, and potions theory. If you want to learn anything 'useful' while you're there you'll have to find it on your own time.
Sounds promising. I'll work on that. One last thing.
Make it quick.
You told me you were telling the truth, on all of the things you used tell me. All of them, right?
Yes?
So the one about you being a supremely powerful EVIL dark wizard? That was true?
What do you think?
And Tom slammed down his barriers, so Harry couldn't talk to him anymore. He could try, but defending his own mind and breaching someone else's were vastly different. He didn't like doing it, and Tom routinely took advantage of his reluctance.
Harry scowled in the darkness, the fire had just gone out. He rolled over, pulling the coat around him and ignored the smell. He closed his eyes and let out a whoosh of air. Maybe he could get more out of Tom in the morning.
Despite being a bloody git and a right pain in the neck whenever he could, Harry liked him. Tom had odd moments of, if not kindness, then less than his usual indifference, though these times were not to be mentioned. Ever. They were denied as delusions and Tom made a point to be extra nasty for a few weeks after. Harry was worried for him, though he wouldn't be telling Tom that, it would be dismissed as trivial and pointless. Still, Harry would be sure to find out who Tom was, and why he was in hiding as soon as possible.
XXXXXXXXXX
The dream began differently than Harry's normal nighttime occurrences. For one, he knew he was dreaming and the whole thing had an odd clarity to it like some of his stranger dreams did.
He saw in a cavern; he thought it was underground from the water dripping slowly down the walls and moss covering everything. It was not a pleasant place. He turned to get a better view of the whole thing and his vision spun. Feeling queasy he looked up; now he was in a larger room, with the same features as the previous one, only as if it had been grander back in its day.
The sickly green moss covered marble statues that rose from the ground and would have towered over him. A stone cobbled path lead from in front of Harry to the opposing wall where it narrowed and disappeared into a dark opening. Harry was looking down upon the room from a another marble statue that towered above the rest, centered against the back wall and appearing to be the main feature of the room, framed as it was by the path and smaller statues. As if to make it seem that much mightier, that much more important. Harry fidgeted and tried to climb down, eyes widening and panic flowing though him when he discovered he suddenly couldn't move.
He stopped trying to move and froze when he heard a clacking from the dark opening across the room. A few seconds later and a young boy wearing….robes? came into view. He was holding a bag and Harry was having very bad feelings on what was in it. Nothing to base it on, just instinct. That, and the whole place was giving him the creeps. Who would voluntarily come here?
The boy came to stand in front of the enormous statue Harry was seated on, but didn't notice him at all. Harry had the feeling that even if the boy was looking straight at him, he still wouldn't notice.
The boy raised his arms and hissed. Harry was staring at him with something akin to shock. He had just hissed, like a snake in the zoo, but there had somehow been words too. There weren't just words or hissing but words within the noise.
:Speak to me Slytherin! Greatest of the Hogwarts Four!:
The statue began to rumble and Harry clenched his jaw, and wished with everything he had to wake up. It didn't work. Forced to voyeur and unable to flee, he watched as something huge began to emerge. He saw the head appear beneath him and was filled with a nameless primal horror. Surely this creature would be able to sense his presence. Wake up, wake up, wake up. I want to leave! Now, NOW!
As if his refusal to watch made a slight bit of difference, the scene stopped and faded into a neutral gray. Harry was on his knees in the middle of it, trying to relearn how to breathe. Some shaky breaths later, he looked up and got, wobbling, to his feet.
The longer he looked around him, the more muddled things became except for a few spots of light here and there, bobbing slightly. He reached over to one a foot away and, not at all convinced it was a good idea, grabbed it in his fist. The light sank into his skin and disappeared. Harry opened his hand to find an empty palm, only to be caught off guard when the floor opened and swallowed him whole, closing when a final sounding snap.
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry jolted awake, early the next morning to find sunlight blinding his eyes. He shook his head, trying to get both halves of the dream out of his head. The later part had not been quite so realistic, much like standing in air watching a slideshow of images he couldn't make sense of. Two children he'd never seen playing on a cliff, a musty, creaking house, a strict looking woman with shrewd eyes, and, what disturbed him the most, a white rabbit hanging from a ceiling beam. The last had been among many he wished he hadn't seen but it had been the one to finally jerk him from sleep.
Harry shuddered. He hated these dreams. They were seldom pleasant and often impossible to forget. It was just a dream. He told himself firmly. Just a dream. Don't let it bother you. It's not real.
He blinked and looked up from the floor toward a sudden tapping noise.
Unable to see its source, he sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was still asleep on the sofa, snoring, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.
Harry scrambled to his feet, went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.
No, don't do that.
Harry tried to wave the bird out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.
Harry leapt over to the couch and shook Hagrid's arm, trying to wake him up.
"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa. "He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."
Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags…finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.
Knuts?
Tom chose this moment to reappear, The small ones made of bronze.
Pondering Tom's sudden thoughtfulness, highly unusual, Harry counted out five of the little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.
Behind him, Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.
"Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' but all yer stuff fer school."
Harry was turning over the wizard coins and examining them closely. He had just thought of something that had the potential to puncture his chances at this school.
Scrabbling on the floor for the piece of parchment he had the night before he wrote his concerns and then held it up to get Hagrid's attention.
{I haven't got any money. And Uncle Vernon said last night that he won't pay for me to go and learn magic.}
"Ah, yeh don't worry abou' that," said Hagrid pulling on his huge boots. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?" He stood up and scratched his head.
{But if their house was destroyed- }
Hagrid interrupted him before he could finish, "They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop for us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn't say no ter a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."
{Wizards have special banks?}
"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."
Harry almost dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.
Wizards, witches, and goblins, he thought, Am I right in assuming other 'mythological' creatures exist too?
You may be correct in this assumption.
Will you tell me about them later?
No. And the normal Tom was back. Hooray.
Hagrid was still going on, "-yeh'd have ter be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – gettin' things from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see."
"Got everythin'? Come on, then."
Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of eater in the bottom after the storm. Harry was amazed it wasn't at the bottom of the sea, let alone still floating.
Harry looked at his piece of parchment. He'd need more soon if he wanted to keep talking with Hagrid. He found a little more space to squeeze in another question though.
{How did you get here?}
Hagrid squinted down at it, then handed him a longer piece of parchment from one of his infinite pockets.
"Flew," he said, "but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."
They settled down in the boat, Harry still looking at Hagrid, with his head cocked a little to one side, trying to picture him flying.
"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
Harry shook his head, watching closely to see how Hagrid preformed magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.
I do wonder how he's managed to avoid being caught. He appears incapable of not using magic. Maybe Dumbledore gives bribes so they look the other way? Tom wondered.
Harry shushed him and broke in his new writing space.
{Why would you be mad to try to rob Gringotts?}
"Spells – enchantments," said Hagrid, unfurling his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way – Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."
Harry sat and thought this through while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet.
"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.
{There's a Ministry of Magic?}
"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts –"
Did anyone ever think there was a reason for that?
Tom, what do you mean?
Tom vibrated his irritation and didn't say anything else.
"-so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every mornin' askin' fer advice."
{But what does a Ministry of Magic do, exactly?}
"Well their main job is ter keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."
{Why?}
"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions ter their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.
Passerby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"
Harry kept writing as he jogged a bit to keep up with Hagrid's long stride.
{Did you say there were dragons at Gringotts?}
"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."
{You'd like a dragon?}
"Wanted one ever since I was a kid – here we go."
They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harry so he could buy their tickets.
People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.
Harry produced the parchment envelope out if his pocket.
"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list of everything yeh need."
Harry unfolded the second piece of paper he'd glanced at last night and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
Harry snorted quietly. Black robes and pointy hats? That's so… stereotypical.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Books of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
Magical Drafts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standerd size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Harry was eying the book list with a concerned view.
{Can we buy all this in London?}
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.
XXXXXXXXXX
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. they passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street filled with ordinary people.
"This is it," said Hagrid coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have known it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clamping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making his knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this – can this be -?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter…what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized him hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."
Harry hadn't the faintest clue what was going on. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming. Tom was disgusted.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand – I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle. Do you remember me?"
Harry nodded slowly, a long time ago, the strange man with the top hat had bowed to him in a shop. Aunt Petunia had been angry, he recalled, and had locked him in his cupboard for day, pushing food through a slot.
"He remembers!" cried Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you see that? He remembers me!"
Harry shook hands again and again – Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you. I'll b-be t-teaching D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," he muttered, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-Not that you n-need it, eh P-P-Potter?" he laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all you equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on – lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
By this time Harry had arrived at the reasonable conclusion that all wizards were touched in the head, except for that one, the Professor Quirrell. He got the feeling that that there was something….something off about him, he just didn't know what.
Tom, what was with all of them? Why were they talking like that?
How should I know?
Because you always know these kinds of things.
Do I really?
Harry's attempt to pry answers out of Tom was interrupted by Hagrid grinning down at him.
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you were famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
Harry eyed the half of parchment paper he had left.
{Is he always that nervous?}
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter some firsthand experience…They say he meet vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella?"
So not just wizards, witches, and goblins, but vampires, hags, and dragons too? Harry was wrapping his mind around that while Hagrid appeared to be counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.
"Three up…two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he touched quivered – it wriggled – in the middle a small hole appeared – it grew wider and wider – a second later they were facing an archway large enough for even Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."
A/N: Well that was a rather long chapter wasn't it? Ha-ha, Tom knows all and he's not telling~ If you figure out what's up with the dreams you get points, big points. Again sorry for the delay and all that. I'm going to answer some of the more popular questions I've been getting below:
Does Tom know who Harry is?
Yes, he does. He figured it out in the three year time gap when they first began Occlumency lessons. He just doesn't see the need to call Harry by name because he's literally IN HIS HEAD. He just talks and Harry knows he's being addressed.
Why is Harry mute?
This was a big one and it kind of surprised me. He's mute because of psychological trauma at such a young age. I hoped that was conveyed in the opening paragraph but I guess not.
I, being the wonderful writer that I am, am replying to my reviews now. Not all of them, just the ones with input, or questions asked. So if you want to know something, just ask. :) The poll is still up on my profile, and it will remain there until Harry gets to Hogwarts, so please visit and vote. You'll be contributing to the story and you'll get a warm, fuzzy feeling. Try it and prove me wrong. Thanks to the people who have already voted. Review, comment, and all that good stuff.