Harry resisted the urge to jump up and down like an excited two-year-old, but he couldn't stop a wide smile from spreading across his face. After today he would be able to perform magic for real. McGonagall noticed his grin and smiled as well.
"Excited, David?" she asked, opening the door to the Leaky Cauldron. Before leaving the cottage, McGonagall had told him that Harry Potter was a celebrity in the wizarding world, and they had decided that he should go by a false name in order to remain inconspicuous.
"Of course," he answered, genuine happiness coloring his voice. The pub was well worn, as if it had been serving customers in the same building for hundreds of years, but it was clean and packed with people. A man called out from behind the bar,
"Professor McGonagall! I haven't seen you 'round these parts for a long time. Finally came to your senses and realized that I serve the best ale in Britain?"
"Apologies, Tom, but Madam Rosemerta has you there," she said, smiling, "I'm just passing through." The bartender waved toward the back of the pub, and Harry followed McGonagall, weaving around clusters of tables and customers. She stopped and introduced him to one.
"Professor Quirrell, how nice to see you here," she said, addressing a tall, lanky man wearing a turban, "David, this is Professor Quirell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said, shaking Quirrell's hand. When they touched, Harry's palm began tingling and Quirrell pulled his hand away as if stung.
"Doing your sh-sh-sh-shopping?" stuttered Quirrell, "I'm sure I will s-s-s-see you at Hogwarts then." They continued out the back door of the pub, leaving Quirrell with his drink. Harry asked,
"Is he all right, Professor?" looking back at where they exited.
"He was such a bright student," McGonagall sighed, pulling out her wand and tapping a section of the brick wall, "But he ran into some trouble with vampires on his travels and hasn't been the same since. Welcome, to Diagon Alley."
The brick wall dissolved and Harry's heart swelled with emotion as he walked down the alley. Magic was everywhere; the buildings stuck out at odd angles, self-stirring caldrons were stacked outside a potion shop, various magical creatures peaked out of a window, a cluster of children ogled a broomstick, and wizards and witches rushed past, carrying packages. And rising above it all, a tall white marble building that broadcasted its strength and authority,
"Gringott's Wizard Bank," McGonagall declared, guiding him up the steps, "Your inheritance is stored here, although much of it can't be accessed legally until you are of age." They continued through the double doors into the grand hallway within. At desks along the edges, creatures sat, stacking coins or weighing jewels. "Goblins," McGonagall said, answering his unspoken question, "They have run this bank for generations." They approached an open teller and McGonagall handed the goblin a small gold key and a envelope.
"Mr. Potter wishes to access his vault," she said, authoritatively, "I also need to withdraw an important object on behalf of Hogwarts." The goblin peered over his spectacles at them, inspected the key and read the envelope. Finding everything in order, they followed him through a side door. The passage beyond looked like a cave, with a cart waiting on tracks that snaked off into darkness. They all climbed aboard, and the cart took off, seemingly without any direction from the goblin, speeding around corners and over deep ravines. They finally came to a stop in front of an unassuming door. The goblin inserted the key into the lock and swung open the door. A great mound of coins glittered immediately beyond the door, but Harry could see passageways branching off from the central chamber. Resolving to explore them at a later time, he filled the bag that McGonagall had given him and climbed aboard the cart once again. The cart traveled deep underground, faster and faster, passing through waterfalls and several concealed entrances. When the cart finally ground to a stop, the only object of interest was a plain wooden door. The goblin stroked the front of the door with a finger, and it simply melted away. Inside, Harry only caught a glimpse of a small, grubby package before McGonagall quickly placed it in one of her robe's pockets.
The bright light was blinding in contrast after exiting Gringotts' dark hallways. Blinking from the sudden glare, McGonagall guided Harry into shop called Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. After conferring with the owner, she told Harry she would return when his robes were fitted and left the shop. Shrugging into a black robe and standing on a pedastool, Harry thought he was alone with the magical tape measurer when a pale boy with blonde hair cleared his throat.
"Hogwarts student?" he asked with a haughty tone, "Where's your parents? Abandoned you to McGonagall?" Somehow, the boy was able to smirk and talk at the same time. Fuming, Harry immediately straightened up to his full height and gave the boy his most intimidating glare. He knew he would crush the boy in a fight, even without his weapons, but he didn't want to start a brawl in his brand new robes. He snarled,
"You pompous idiot," he said, the boy cowering under his rage, "McGonagall is guiding me as I have traveled from America to come to Hogwarts. For insulting my family you should be lucky I do not challenge you to a duel." From the boy's shaking Harry could tell that he had made himself clear that he was not going to lie down and be bullied. "What is you name?"
"Draco, Draco Malfoy." the boy said, trying to hide behind his name as if it meant something. Harry tore through that defense like steel through paper.
"I don't care who you are," Harry snapped, "But I will not tolerate any insolence. Run, before I decide to beat you into the ground." The boy fled, tripping over his new robes in his haste, right past McGonagall who was entering. She took one look at Harry's murderous expression and said,
"Malfoy?" she asked, sighing, taking his new robes from him.
"Yes," Harry said, shaking off the last of his anger, "Let's go outside before I punch something."
"I think I know just the place to take your mind off that," McGonagall said, smiling and leading him out of the door.
This was certainly not what Harry had expected the store selling his ticket into a new world to look like. Narrow and shabby, the peeling gold letters above the door read Ollivander's: Maker of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C. A bell jingled into the cavernous, dark room, stacked high with shelves of thin boxes as they walked through the door.
"I was wondering when you would come in," a man said, silver eyes peering out of the shadows, "Mr. Potter." Harry immediately crouched into a defensive stance, this man was clearly powerful if he knew Harry's name without having been told. Mr. Ollivander, for that was who this man must be, continued.
"It seems only yesterday that your mother and father were in here buying their first wands," he said, as a floating tape measure began to take Harry's height, "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Which is your wand arm?" He asked, disappearing among the stacks of boxes.
"I'm right handed," Harry said, guardedly. The man returned with a box and with a gesture the tape measure crumpled to the floor.
"Try this," Ollivander said, handing him a wand. Unsure of what to do, Harry took it and flicked it toward the only lamp, which immediately exploded. Without a word, Ollivander handed Harry another one.
"Perhaps this one," he said. And so Harry tried, and tried and tried, but the pile of discarded wands grew higher and higher. Just when Harry was sure that this had all been a mistake, that he would never be able to perform magic, Ollivander handed him another wand.
"11 inches, holly, nice and supple," the man said, "Give it a wave." Harry grasped the handle and immediately a warmth filled him from head to toe, and the lightning marks on his palms began to glow. Suddenly confident, he waved the wand and little tendrils of lightning flew from the end, McGonagall clapped in excitement. Ollivander returned the wand to the box, and Harry felt as if he had just lost a dear friend. Ollivander muttered,
"Curious, very curious," wringing his hands while accepting Harry's payment. Harry couldn't resist.
"Excuse me, sir," he asked, interested, "But what's curious?" Ollivander's silver eyes seemed to stare deep into Harry's soul, and he suppressed an involuntary shiver.
"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. The phoenix whose feather resides in your wand," he said, quietly, "Gave one other feather, just one. It is curious that you should be destined for this wand, when its brother took your parents' lives." Harry wondered what that could mean for his future. The fates were known to make hero's lives difficult, he knew he shouldn't be surprised when they finally decided to meddle in his affairs. A knock from the door startled him out of his reverie. An oddly dressed elderly woman strode in, adorned in a hat decorated with a stuffed vulture and sporting a bright red, faux leather handbag, followed by what some would call a rather unassuming boy. Harry, however, could see that the boy's aura shone almost as bright as the woman proceeding him, and although hers was a tad hard around the edges, his shone with a kindness and bravery rivaled by only heroes in stories. Harry immediately knew that he wanted to be friends with this boy.
"Hello, my name is Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand, "What is your name?" The woman interrupted,
"Do you respect your elders, boy?" The other boy looked extremely embarrassed, but Harry knew that this woman deserved his respect, even if she was a bit sharp. Sweeping into a bow, he responded,
"My apologies, my dear lady," he said, holding his hand out and receiving a firm shake in return, "Please excuse the momentary lapse in my manners. Of course one such as you deserves my respect first and foremost." The lady chuckled, and her voice was a bit warmer than before.
"Indeed," she continued and addressed the boy, "It appears Harry Potter does have some manners, eh Neville?" Harry realized that these were the people who he was to be spending the rest of the summer with.
"As you heard, my name is Neville," the boy said, quietly, shaking Harry's hand, "Have you gotten your wand yet?"
"Yes," Harry replied warmly, smiling, and the boy smiled in return, "Just did. Have you?"
"I got mine when we first arrived," he said, showing Harry, "We've been doing other shopping since then when we saw McGonagall through the window."
"Speaking of which," Agusta said, "Where is that professor? Gone to chase some mice?" She laughed at her own joke, and Neville smiled weakly. Harry thought that she had to be very close friends with McGonagall to know her animagus form. However, she was correct, McGonagall was nowhere to be found, she must have slipped out from the shop when Harry was busy meeting the Longbottoms. He berated himself on having gotten so careless and unobservant as to not notice her exit. Just then, there came another knock on the door, and through the window they could see McGonagall holding up a silver bird cage with a piece of parchment inside that read "One Owl of Mr. Harry Potter's choice". Harry immediately rushed outside and hugged the professor who was becoming more and more like a mother to him.
"Not so tight, David," she said, eyes twinkling, "You wouldn't want me accused of favoritism, now would we?" Harry looked at her, his overwhelming joy beaming out of his eyes and his smile. He had wanted a pet ever since he was a young boy, but there wasn't an opportunity for him to have one at Camp Half-Blood. Now one of his childhood dreams was coming true.
"Thank you so much," he said, grinning, "I'll be right back." He took off toward the shop where he had seen the animals before, McGonagall rushing after him in his wake. All the birds were beautiful, but one in particular caught his eye. It was a snowy white barn owl, and reminded him of his favorite pegasus at home. When he walked in, it woke up from its slumber, fixed its eyes on him, and gave a soft coo. When McGonagall finally caught up, he was stroking the bird and smiling peacefully.
"I've decided to name you Hedwig," he said to the bird, "McGonagall told me she was a very powerful witch." He smiled at McGonagall and was surprised to see her face look unusually stern.
"You have to be more careful, David," she said quietly yet harshly, "You need to keep your powers in check. You ran so fast it looked as if you had apparated, if anyone was paying attention it would raise some very dangerous questions." Then her face and voice softened, and she said "That is a beautiful owl." Harry resolved to be more careful, that was his second slip-up in several minutes. Neville and Augusta just then entered the shop and McGonagall held out her hand.
"I shall see you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," she said, her eyes shining with kindness and pride, "Don't cause any trouble for Mrs. Longbottom, you hear?" Harry shook her hand and nodded, and then McGonagall had appariated away. He turned to his hosts and asked,
"Shall we be going then?" excited for what lay in store. He would do McGonagall proud at Hogwarts.
AN:
All rights belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and Rick Riordan for the original stories.
This was such a fun chapter to write! In either the next chapter or the one after Harry will be off to Hogwarts.
Thanks for reading!