Chapter 4: Heritage and Acquisitions

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

A/N: Seeing as J.K. never created a monetary symbol for the Galleon I have made one up myself so I don't have to keep writing out 'galleons' it is the Latin symbol for Gamma represented as: Ɣ, I found it in my MS Word Symbols, look it up if you don't believe me. I thought it fitting with the Latin based spell work throughout the canon books. If anyone else has done this with this same symbol, my profuse apologies, I did not intend to steal your idea, we just happened to have the same one. Also the layout of Diagon Alley is taken from the HP Lexicon; any stores that are not canon are placed in 'empty' buildings as shown on the map.

The bank in the throes of business was a remarkable sight, with every Goblin teller seated engaged in some business transaction or another and every booth in use. Harry marveled. The Goblin he had addressed seemed incapable of not risking a glance up at Harry's forehead. With a sigh that only his parents, and possibly Arc could hear, he pulled his fringe out of the way.

The Goblin didn't seem to react at all, at least not that Harry noticed, ringing a small silver bell. Moments later, an older Goblin ambled up to the counter and met Harry's gaze with his own coal black eyes, which once again swept across Harry's scar. Eyebrows raising just a fraction, "Right this way Mr. Potter," said the Goblin, leading them past the counter and through one of several hundred doors. Walking down a small corridor with four sets of matching gilded doors they entered the ones on the far left.

Though now mostly accounts, bankers and financial advisers, the Goblins Race had and would always be warriors first, and as warriors, should be on their guard. The doors swung inwards of their own accord and the Goblin gave a short, half bow to the wizard standing before him. "Greetings and welcome to the Bank of Gringotts, Mr. Potter," his eyes rose to meet Harry, "My name is Ragnok."

Following the prompting of his parents he bowed from the waist, slightly lower than Ragnok had and rose with his right hand crossed over his chest, fist clenched against the shoulder as if holding a Goblin War Axe. "Greetings Ragnok, may your gold forever multiply," replied Harry, taking care to meet the gaze of the slightly astonished Goblin, "and may your enemies suffer horrible deaths upon your blade."

Ragnok broke in to a rather terrifying smile, this meeting, he realized, would be an interesting one. "Mr. Potter," he gestured towards the couch and coffee table instead of towards his desk and the somewhat uncomfortable chairs, "Your financial situation has been a bit of a conundrum amongst the goblins. The Potter family has long carried strong relations with other magical races, goblins included. As such the contents of the last Potter's will is known to us. We we're, there for, curious as to why the contents of the will and its instructions were not carried out at the time."

Harry nodded, hearing everything the goblin says being confirmed by his parents, "I know that I was never to go to my mother's sister. I also never received any, and I mean any, sort of communication from the wizarding world until my Hogwarts Letter. I would have at least expected letters from friends of my parents, well wishes, or even birthday cards."

With a wave of his clawed hand, a selection of pastries, cakes and other delicacies were brought to the coffee table, accompanied by a selection of beverages, both wizarding, goblin and much to Harry's surprise: Muggle. "I would suggest trying the Pumpkin Juice." It was Ragnok's way of buying time, to ponder the situation and the disturbing information that he had just learned, "Mr. Potter, it would appear that there has been a breakdown in communication, leading to the wishes of one of our most honored families not being carried out." Reaching his desk, the goblin pulled open a drawer and extracted a single, thick dossier to remove several pieces of parchment, "As to your finances, you will have access to your trust vault in a few days when you turn eleven. This vault is intended to pay for your schooling and day to day living expenses. When you come of age at seventeen, you will gain access to the Potter Family Vault, although you can examine the contents immediately." He scanned the file and grinned evilly, "Fortunately, you arrived before we sent you the key to your vault, and I would assume your lack of post in the past would mean that you would never receive your key."

Harry frowned, "There are apparently many things about myself and my life that are not being carried out as per my parents wishes. How much do I have in each vault?"

Ragnok scaned the file again, "In your trust vault there is Ɣ300, 000 or £1, 500, 000, this will refill to that amount at the end of each school year from the family vault until your schooling is completed; at which time the trust will merge with the family vault.

"Within the Potter Family Vault there is Ɣ100, 000, 000 or £500, 000, 000. As well as antiquities, personal items salvaged from Godric's Hollow, including both your parent's wands, and family heirlooms. There is also a file of your holdings. Property deeds, share holdings, the Potter's will, and birth certificates for the three of you, and finally, the death certificates for your parents."

Harry nodded, having been told the approximate amount by his parents beforehand, he was able to keep his composure as his wealth was laid before him. "Do you have a copy of my parents will?" he took a cautious sip of the juice and found a rather pleasant mellow flavor with just a hint of sweetness to it.

Ragnok nodded and pulled out a piece of parchment from within the file before him. He slid it across the desk to Harry and leaned back in his chair, observing the reactions flitting across Harry's face as he read, the frown growing deeper and deeper, until it was etching furrows in to the young man's features.

"According to this there were five people in the magical world that I was to go to, my God Father first and foremost. Where is Sirius Black and why was I not placed with him, or my God Mother Alice Longbottom? Why was I not placed with any of these other people: Remus Lupin, Poppy Pomfrey, or Amelia Bones?" Harry's eyes widened as her read the bottom of the document, "It actually says I was specifically NOT to go into my aunt's care. That if the above people were not available I was to be placed in a magical family approved by the Goblins of Gringotts!

Harry looked up and finally saw the disturbed look on Ragnok's face. Harry paled and James cursed within Harry's mind, "What is it, what happened to these people."

Ragnok shifted uneasily and cleared his throat, "Mr. Potter, what I have to tell you will be very difficult to hear, much less say, as all these families were close to the Goblin Nation. I ask you to hold your questions until I have finished." Taking a breath he continued, "Mr. Sirius Black was falsely arrested and sentenced without a trial for the betrayal of your parents, as well as the murder of thirteen muggles and one Mr. Peter Pettigrew; the true betrayer. We were told of the switch of secret keepers as a precautionary measure, he is currently in Azkaban. Mrs. Alice Longbottom and her husband Mr. Frank Longbottom were tortured into insanity by Bellitrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange, and Bartiemus Crouch Jr. shortly after the death of your parents. They are in St. Mungo's permanent care ward. Mr. Remus Lupin was denied custody due to his lycanthropy and essentially disappeared. We believe that the loss of what he considers his 'pack', and the inability to care for his friends 'cub' drove him into such depression that he let the wolf take over. Madam Poppy Pomfrey works at Hogwarts as a healer, we have reason to believe she was either never told of her eligibility to raise you, or her memory was modified. The same is assumed about Madam Amelia Bones, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

At the first mention of Sirius' fate, Harry had had to retreat into his mind to help control his father, who had started raging. The three of them then sat in silence as the fate of the remainder of their friends was revealed. When Ragnok finished, they were stunned for a moment before Harry jumped up and exited his mindscape. Coming back to himself, he addressed Ragnok. "This ... is a lot to take in. What happened to the Longbottom's son? Who denied Madams Bones and Pomfrey the knowledge of their eligibility? Why was Sirius not given a trial?"

Ragnok spread his hands, "I can only answer the first question accurately Mr. Potter. Mr. Neville Longbottom was taken in by his Grandmother, Mrs. Agusta Longbottom. He is doing well and will be joining you this year at Hogwarts. We speculate that the same person who left you at your Aunt and Uncle's was responsible for not informing Madams Bones or Pomfrey: Albus Dumbledore." He paused, a look of distaste spreading across his face, "As for the lack of a trial for Mr. Black, the Ministry will have everyone believe that the evidence against him was so incontrovertible that a trial was unnecessary. When, in reality, they were so euphoric at the downfall of Voldemort, that they couldn't be bothered to prove Mr. Black's guilt, using him as a scapegoat."

Harry sat, immersed in his thoughts and speculations with his parents, before nodding to Ragnok, "Thank you for the information, sir. These things will be taken care of. Now as to my holdings, I am aware that I have a house in Godric's Hollow but that there may be some damage to it, has anything been done to repair it?"

Ragnok looked through the file again, "Actually Mr. Potter, it was turned into a war memorial. Preserved as it was the night of your parents death as a reminder of the, 'Potter Sacrifice' they call it. You also have four other ancestral homes; one here in England close to Stonehenge, one in Scotland not far from Hogwarts, one in France outside of Versailles, and finally one in Italy near Venice. You are unable to visit these homes until you're of age, unfortunately."

Harry nodded again, expecting this, "Very well, I'd like to go to my vault, please. I'll visit my family vault at a later time, however. I have shopping to do for school, amongst other things."

Ragnok stood and nodded, waiving for Harry to follow him. They head out the corridor into the main hall, and across to another door that opened to reveal a track and mining cart. After clambering into the cart they sped off through a twisting maze of tunnels, coming to stop in front of a vault door. Ragnok took out a gilded key, unlocked the vault, and handed the key to Harry. He then pulled a leather money bag from his pocket, handing it to Harry as well and explained, "This bag is charmed with Goblin magic, linked directly to your vault, to be bottomless and weightless. The link will be activated after you have placed any amount of money from the vault in to the bag for the first time. It is a small token that I can extend to you on behalf of Gringotts for the problems that the bank has caused you."

Lily was quick to assess that what the Goblin's referred to as 'a small token,' was in fact a gift and a service that was extended to only the most valued of clients. James was quick to point out that having the Goblin's 'on his side,' could prove to be very useful in the future. Carefully, Harry accepted the bag from Ragnok, taking care to take it with both hands, giving the goblin a slightly bow as he did so.

"Thank you," Harry said, "Apology accepted, and I hope that the relationship between Gringotts and the Potter Family will continue, and be a prosperous one for us both." The formality of the language nearly caused him to verbally stumble, but Ragnok either did not notice, or more likely chose to ignore it. Entering his vault he scooped a hand full each of Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons to ensure direct access to each through the vault, according to Ragnok. One wild cart ride, a handshake, and a good bye later, Harry Potter stood outside the great doors of the bank, squinting in to the sunlight, giving his eyes time to adjust as he pondered what the first stop on his upcoming shopping spree should be.

{O.o}

The sun seemed to have retreated behind a cloud bank, but there was enough sun to call it a sunny-ish afternoon. Considering that he planned a shopping spree, the first stop should be the trunk shop squashed between Madam Malkin's and Gringotts so that he had a place to put everything. The sign swung back and forth in a slightly humid summer breeze and proclaimed the name of the store well enough:

Swiftwing Storage: Magical Trunks, Bottomless Bags, Everlight Packs and Expandable Rooms

Harry's face bore a massive grin as he swept through the door, to be confronted by stacks of trunks and shelves crammed full of bags and packs. At the far end was a glass display case that also served as the front counter. An odd little man stood up and surveyed Harry and seems to dismiss him as being able to afford nothing more than the most basic of basic trunks, "Welcome to Swiftwing Storage, I am the owner and proprietor, Mr. Swiftwing. How may I help you, young sir?" He asked coming around the counter.

"I am interested in getting a trunk for all my things, not just my school stuff. My relations are not keen on magic and, should I be required to stay with them, I would like my belongings secure while in their house." Harry said looking at the stacks of trunks beside him.

"Well, we have multi-compartmental trunks that can store as much as a small house. However," his eyes once again rove over Harry's unkempt appearance, "They are rather pricey."

Harry glanced down at himself, a sheepish grin on his face, "Yes, well ... this is what my relatives gave me to wear; you can understand my reluctance for their ability to procure any of my belongings. As for money," He opened his new vault bag and withdrew a sizable hand full of galleons, "It's no object."

The shop owners' eyes widened with delighted greed, "Certainly sir." He says, leading Harry to the back of the store where a row of sleek black trunks stood, almost as if each was atop its own pedestal, looking down with superiority over the lesser, stacked models, "These trunks have anywhere from three to seven individual compartments. Each compartment starts as a standard two square meter room."

Mr. Swiftwing actually patted the closest trunk affectionately, "For trunks with more than four rooms there is the option of travel between compartments. The rooms can be set up, for an additional fee, to be a basic flat; with kitchen, sitting room, one or more bedrooms, one or more bathrooms, library, and/or study; or any combination thereof. They are however, unfurnished."

"Each also comes standard with owner recognition charms, anti-theft, shrinking and enlarging, and the 'Domestic Care' charms package to protect from water, fire, dirt and routine bumps and scratches. There is also an immovable charm to prevent it from being handled when occupied. Also, should you want to, there is an addable feature that will allow you to 'key in' a friend or, ahem, relative; simply place your hand on the centre of the trunks lid and state their first and last names. So, what tickles your fancy?"

Harry thought for a moment, digesting all the possibilities. "Go all out, Harry." James declared encouragingly, "Not only do you deserve it, but you need it with the Dursleys and how much you're planning to get."

Harry looked to the store owner, "Mr. Swiftwing, I am about to make your day."

Harry ended up with a seven compartment 'flat' trunk containing a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, sitting room, library with empty shelves, and study. The seventh room was left empty as the future habitat for Arc to hibernate and live in during the colder months of the year. Now outfitted with a trunk, he also purchased and everlight pack for his books and a bottomless bag for his more personal belongings. The bag and pack came with the same security features as on the trunk as well, minus the immoveable charm. Harry even debated on getting an expandable room for Privet Drive, but as his mother rightly pointed out, the Dursleys would not take kindly to him altering their house, and he could always stay in the trunk.

By the time Harry was done, he'd not only made Mr. Swiftwing's day, but probably his week, month and year. Trunks were a lucrative market, but the usual customer would only buy the standard one compartment trunk, giving him a decent income, but making money tight when it came to the pricey tuition of the magical boarding school. This one customer's purchases alone would ensure that he could put his youngest of five children through Hogwarts.

Moving on to Madam Malkin's, Harry realized that he was about to "make the day" for virtually every merchant, shop owner, and stall proprietor in Diagon Alley as he was shopping for not just school, but personal necessity and desire. Madam Malkin was just finishing with a young dark skinned boy who looks to be the same age as Harry, and waived him to the next platform to stand upon and be measured. After the other boy left, Madam Malkin turned to Harry with a tape measure in hand, "Just the Hogwarts Robes then, dear?"

"Actually Madam Malkin," Harry said with a massive grin, "I need an entire wardrobe, everything from muggle shirts and trousers to dress robes." Harry's grin became Cheshire-cat like as Madam Malkin's eyes widened and the tape measure dropped from her hand. After a brief moment she blinked and snapped back. A wave of her hand had her measuring tape set to map out every line and curve of Harry's body, and she moved through the aisle of her shop, a whirling dervish of piling clothing. The hours passed rapidly as Harry assembled a wardrobe of ten pairs of trousers, five in khaki and five in black; twenty shirts in black, white, cream, red, green, blue, and deep golden yellow; five sets of basic black school robes; and seven sets of dress robes in the same colors as his shirts. He also got a good supply of socks, pants, and undershirts in black and white, and advice to go to the shoe shop on the other side of Gringotts.

Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium

Lily couldn't help but smile: somebody had clearly been reading their muggle fairytales. Entering the store, Harry was greeted by a diminutive creature: a house elf, according to his father."Welcome to the Elves and Shoemaker Footwear Emporium. I am Hoopy, how may we be serving you today?"

Noting his father's comment of 'Well spoken for an elf', Harry crouched down to be at eye level, "I need some trainers and a good pair of boots. What can you offer?"

Hoopy smiled and a snap of his fingers revealed a wall of trainers, "We have many different kinds of trainers in both the magical and muggle styles. Our magical trainers look exactly like their muggle counterparts but have an auto tie feature and are charmed to repel dirt and water and will resize themselves as you grow." He paused and gestured to an equally impressive display of boots. "Our boots come in a variety of dragon hides, ranging from the Common Welsh Green to rare Hungarian Horntail to the exotic Chinese Fireball. The dragon's hides naturally imbued magic means that they are predictably immune to dirt and water, but are still charmed to auto tie and resize as necessary. Also as most dragons have rather lurid scales, all dragon hide boots come with a colour change feature. This allows you to change the shade to the colour of your choice, the most popular, of course, being black."

Harry grinned, "Well that sounds perfect. I'll take two pairs of magical trainers and a pair of Hungarian Horntail boots." Beaming with his new footwear, he slipped on a pair of trainers, paid for his purchases and headed next door to the Magical Menagerie. Stepping inside the pet shop Harry's attention was assaulted; seeing, hearing, and smelling as many as a hundred different animals competing for his attention. Noting that the shop was mostly empty of humans, save for a mother-daughter pair examining crup food, Harry walked up to the shop keeper, whose nameplate read 'Ms. Aimes', and murmured, "I have a familiar that tends to frighten some people," Harry nodded at the browsing pair significantly, "It would be helpful if we could speak about her needs and care with a measure of privacy."

Ms. Aimes raised an eyebrow and nodded. Moving over to the small family, she helped them with their selection and purchase quickly and efficiently, then turned the sign on the door to close. Turning back to Harry, he extended his arm and watched the woman carefully as Arc slid out of his sleeve; coiled around his arm, tongue flickering as it tasted the air. Ms. Aimes' eyebrows rose, almost vanishing beneath her fringe of hair but beyond that, she made no sign of revulsion or disgust.

"Ms. Aimes, I need all the equipment necessary to create a suitable habitat for her in a two square meter room, as well as the needs for a colony of mice, and the mice themselves. I will tell you now that I am willing to spend a great deal of money on this, however I am also a Parselmouth," Ms. Aimes' eyes, which had been studying Arc with admiration, snapped back to Harry so fast they were almost audible. Harry rose his own eyebrow at this, "There is nothing Dark about speaking to reptiles, just because Voldemort," Harry paused at the expected wince, "Yes, I speak his name. Just because he and Slytherin spoke to snakes does not mean it is automatically evil. If anyone paid attention to wizarding history they would know and remember that Merlin could speak Parseltongue…"

Ms. Aimes nodded and cut him off smoothly, "I am in agreement with you sir. As a collector and seller exotic animals I find that there are a lot of unwarranted prejudices against certain creatures. I actually rather wish I could speak the language myself. It would certainly make dealing with the magical snakes I get from time to time easier." She adopted a more businesslike air, "Now, you'll need quite a bit of equipment to create a habitat that big, where is this room?"

"It's in my trunk." Harry replied, pulling it out of his bag and opening the last compartment.

Ms. Aimes whistled and looked down into the trunk, "You weren't kidding about spending a lot of money, were you?"

"I plan on having her for a long time, her home should reflect that." Harry said, not wanting to get into the whole 'Dursley issue'. After carting nearly half the reptile section of the shop down into Harry's trunk and setting it up to Arc's specifications, complete with a burrow for the new colony of twenty mice, Harry thanked Ms. Aimes and headed to his next destination.

Wanting to leave his wand till last, even though it was clear at the other end of the alley from the Leakey Cauldron, Harry went next to Flourish and Blotts, the wizarding bookstore. In addition to his schoolbooks Harry bought –at his mother's urging and with his father's almost grudging agreement - extra books on each subject as well as books on Occlumency, Leglemency, wizarding politics, magical animals, and various other subjects taught in later years like Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.

After stopping in the stationary store next door for ink, quills, and parchment; where he went a bit crazy on some colour changing ink and dicta-quills, Harry headed to the Apothecary. It was a fascinating shop crammed with all sorts of interesting things. There were barrels of slimy stuff lined up on the floor and jars of all sorts of powders, herbs, and the like along the walls. Bundles of feathers, fangs, and claws hung from the ceiling. The whole place smelled terrible; a mix of bad eggs, rotten cabbage and a coppery smell he couldn't quite identify. Harry was quick to purchase a little of just about everything in the shop before getting a set of cauldrons at the shop he first saw when he entered the alley.

Heading back the way he came he stopped at Eeylops Owl Emporium, to pick up a post owl. He planned on ordering more books and supplies by post as the need arose for them. From the several hundred owls on display, he noticed one owl, almost immediately. She seemed to have an air of refined and cultured formality, standing on her perch as if holding herself apart from, but not aloof from the other more sedentary or active owls. She matched his gaze with equal intensity. Harry made his purchase and was back in the alley on his way to his semi final stop:

"Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C."

The gold letters over the doorway of the narrow shop were faded and peeling and the window display showed a single wand resting a top a faded purple cushion. Opening the door, Harry felt more than a bit apprehensive, despite his parent's reassurances. A bell tinkled, and echoed. It was a tiny place and yet somehow, the store had the feel of library to it, a strict one where instead of books, were wands, thousands of narrow boxes piled up neatly, the tallest stack stopping just before they would touch the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped creating a loud crunching noise and he got up quickly off the spindly chair he had sat on.

An old man was standing before him, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," he said, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Harry could feel her shock at this pronouncement and took that to mean Mr. Ollivanders' comment was accurate.

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand, eleven inches, pliable, a little more power, and excellent for transfiguration." James mumbled a surprised acquiescence at this, "Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands…well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, turns away. "Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own as the wand maker flit around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one, Beechwood and dragon heartstring, nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and, feeling rather foolish – much to his parents' amusement - waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather, seven inches, quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out."

Harry tried, and tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"You're a tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well…how curious…how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter; every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother — why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches, yew. It is curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember…I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter…After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

A/N: I know this chapter is a lot longer than my previous ones and deals primarily with the obligatory shopping spree, sorry if you're not a fan of those scenes, I am and it's my fic. I also know that the Ollivanders scene was taken directly from the book with the Hagrid bits removed; this was done on purpose as I saw no reason for Ollivander to not act the same as canon. If you don't like it or anything else in this chapter tell me why or don't read it, comments such as "this sucks" will just get deleted. As always comments that you like my fic, or suggestions on how to make it better, are greatly appreciated.