Okay, I think I should state right now that I do not own any of this and am not making any money from it. The reason why I'm putting the disclaimer in now is that some of this 'work' is copied directly from JKR's books.

Again, I'm only doing this to show my appreciation of what a true artist she is. Enjoy.

Chapter 3

We're off to see a wizard…

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

Later

"I am most curious as to whether or not anyone actually did any research into the Chamber of Secrets?"

Hagrid sat on the defence's chair clearly nervous as hell. However, this time there were no chains and there was no threat of Hagrid being sent to Azkaban.

The whole Wizengamot had been called to Hogwarts; it was deemed the best place for the trial, or re-trial as the case was, and Gilderoy Lockhart had presented damning new evidence that would clear Hagrid.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" Fudge boomed over the crowd of people; the man seemed to grow to ten times his height, but Lockhart merely stood and waited for him to calm down. When he had, he flashed a beautiful smile.

"Rubeus Hagrid, my dear boy," Gilderoy turned to the half-giant. "Please take us to the Chamber of Secrets?"

… … … … … … … … … … … … …

Now

"I read somewhere that it's possible to create a wallet that can allow you direct access to your money without having to go the bank all the time."

The Goblin who sat perched on his seat regarded Xander for a moment.

"Muggle upbringing?"

"Yes sir."

The Goblin looked at him with seriousness in his eyes; most witches and wizards Xander knew didn't equate those who looked after their money with titles, he hoped that by showing a little respect he could get what he needed.

The Goblin nodded its head sharply and looked at Hagrid, saying, "You have his key sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets on the counter; five sausages and a few mouldy dog biscuits later he pronounced victory and handed it over.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest, "It's about the you-know-what in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

"I don't understand?" Xander blurted out without thinking. Both Hagrid and the Goblin turned to look at him.

"I thought Gringotts was the safest place in the country?"

"It is," the Goblin said with a note of disgust.

"So why are we moving something that can't be said in my presence to somewhere that's less safe?"

Hagrid spluttered and stuttered but refused to answer, and the Goblin didn't look too happy about it either and just shrugged its shoulders, and simply replied, "Your wallet will be ready shortly, Mr Potter."

Griphook - the greedy little Goblin who had demanded that the sword of Godric Gryffindor be handed over to him in the 7th book - showed them to the cart. They got in and whipped and turned violently down the tunnel, the cart ride reminding him of a rather violent fairground ride.

They came back up with Hagrid not acting entirely himself; in fact he looked as though he were going to be sick and Xander felt a little sorry for him. True to the Goblin's words, the little creature provided him with a wallet, explained it to him, telling him tap it with his wand and declare 'wizard' or 'Muggle' to select the correct currency, and say 'refill' to fill it up.

Xander thanked the Goblin and the two made their way out of Gringotts. Hagrid still looked violently ill, so Xander suggested that he go to the Leaky Cauldron and sit down for a moment, giving Xander time to explore.

He went to see Madam Malkin, who measured him for his robes, and had an interesting conversation with Malfoy about pure-bloods, Quidditch and Hagrid's being the key and grounds keeper, which Malfoy delighted in describing as a mere servant. Once done, Xander hopped down off the stool and asked Malkin about Muggle clothes.

"You have nothing?" she replied, shocked.

"No, I haven't. I had a case of accidental magic and burnt down my aunt and uncle's house along with everything in it," Xander explained.

Malkin winced.

"I need everything," Xander continued, "but I doubt even with the insurance money my Aunt and Uncle would've bought me anything."

"Nothing at all?"

"No," Xander flashed her a half-smile. "Nice people, huh?"

She nodded sadly, pulled out a piece of parchment and a feather and took his order.

"Give me a couple of days and I'll see what I can get for you."

"Thank you," Xander replied. "Could you send it to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, and if I'm not there he'll forward it to Hogwarts."

He thanked her and left happily, first phase completed.

Just as he was leaving the shop he spotted Hagrid leaving the pub.

"What's up?" Hagrid asked, walking over to him.

"Just met Malfoy … nice person."

Hagrid looked at him oddly.

"What, you've never heard of sarcasm?" Xander asked, smiling. "Surely even witches and wizards have it?"

"Tha' they do," Hagrid grinned.

"Seriously though, what the hell's Quidditch?" Xander naturally knew what it was, (what with it being Harry's favourite sport and all) but he felt the need to keep up appearances.

"Blimey Harry," Hagrid rolled his eyes, "I keep forgettin' how little yeh know." Hagrid launched into an explanation about Quidditch and described Bludgers, Snitches, (Xander's mind had provided snatches) Beaters, Quaffles and Keepers. It sounded a lot like football.

"Which house was You-Know-Who in?" Xander asked casually.

Hagrid face darkened slightly. "'E was in Slytherin, there's not a single witch or wizard went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

"That helps me there," Xander thought. "At least now I have an excuse to look." He needed to pry information out of people; if anyone asked he could put it down to idle curiosity, after all, he was only eleven and knew nothing about the wizarding world.

The next shop they visited was the bookstore. Xander picked up several large tomes that would've impressed anyone, even Giles. He wanted information and reading - much as he hated to admit it - was the best way forward here. Willow would've been proud.

They met the shopkeeper and Xander gave him a list of books he would need: basic spells, potions, history, sports and fashions. The owner scribbled it all down. "Also local heroes as well."

The man looked at him strangely.

"Well, with the way everyone talks about me it wouldn't hurt to know the right people would it?" Xander explained.

The shopkeeper didn't argue and Xander asked for it to be forwarded to Tom again, which made things easier. The next stop was to the Apothecary. Xander didn't stay in there long; with his heightened senses it made him feel ill.

They went to the trunk store after that, where Xander selected one that had more space on the inside than it showed; he was able to store lots of books and anything else he might acquire. Hagrid never questioned it, and merely shrugged his shoulders.

Once outside, Hagrid made a comment about his birthday present and that he still needed to buy a wand. They went to the Eeylops Owl Emporium where Hagrid bought Hedwig for him. He named her immediately.

"She's beautiful, thank you Hagrid," he said, astonished at how beautiful this owl really was. The books had never done her justice.

The wand shop was next, and Xander had been worrying about it the whole day. Would Ollivander suspect? Or would he know nothing? Xander suspected the former, the man was far to sharp to not notice.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly, "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursley's. Just Ollivander's left now – only place fer wands, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

"Ah yes," said the man as they entered the shop. "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."

Xander nodded and remained silent.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power, excellent for Transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Xander were almost nose-to-nose. Xander could see himself (or rather Harry) reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Xander'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..."

"No more so than the people who sold books to Hitler could've known what he'd do with them," Xander said, not realising that perhaps these words were a little beyond a boy aged only eleven. Ollivander, however, did not pick up on it and nodded slowly.

"Wise words my boy."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Xander smirked as Hagrid gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "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…" Xander replied.

"Hold out your arm. That's it."

He measured Xander 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."

"That will do," he said after a while, 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."

Xander did as he was told, but nothing happened. Ollivander mused, patted his chin with his finger and took it away instantly. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try…"

Xander tried - but he had 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, try it out."

Xander tried many wands to no success; he had the feeling, and it was improving greatly, that this was all for show. Meanwhile the pile of wands was getting rather large.

"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."

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

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

Xander chuckled and played along; he knew what Mr. Ollivander was going to say as he remembered from the first book. "What's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Xander 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."

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. 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."

"Everyone talks about him like he was some kind of monster."

"He was, he did terrible things."

"What was his name before he became Lord Volde…"

"He who must not be named…" Ollivander paused slightly, and then he walked over and whispered the name into Xander's ear. Xander nodded thoughtfully, before bidding goodbye to Mr. Ollivander and thanking him for his help.

"How did you get expelled from Hogwarts?" Xander asked Hagrid as casually as he could once they were outside the shop.

"It's a long story and I'm too tired to tell it," Hagrid replied firmly.

Xander nodded and the rest of the journey was spent in silence as he contemplated what Ollivander had said.

'Tom Marvolo Riddle' was going to pay.