Sorry this chapter took so long to post. It was just soooo loooong! Blah! O well, now here it is! Follow Harold and Hagger's trip to Dragon Alley, where Harold finally realizes that the wizarding world is real. Disclaimers: I do not own Twalleons, Fickles, Sknuts, Hagger's latest knitting project, The Squeaky Cauldron, vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four, robes from Miss Falcon, an Olivehander wand, or a hot dog. Heehee...READ!

Chapter 5: Dragon Alley

When Harold woke up the next morning, he kept his eyes shut tight, even though he could see through his eyelids that it was light out.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant named Hagger came to take me to a magic school called Pigzits. None of that really happened. When I open my eyes I'll be back in my cabinet."

There was a sharp tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Pansy banging on the door, he realized unhappily. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream….

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Alright, alright! I'm getting up! Jeez!"

He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, finding it hard because of the heavy overcoat on top of him. When he finally was able to push it off, he saw Hagger sleeping on the couch, snoring, and found the source of the tapping noise. An owl was hitting its foot against the window of the shack, a newspaper in its beak.

Harold tripped over his feet from trying to get up so fast. He felt as though someone had lit fireworks inside of him. He ran over to the window and lifted it open. The owl soared inside, dropped the newspaper onto Hagger's face, who snorted but didn't wake up. The owl then dived down to the floor and began to attack Hagger's coat.

"Hey, don't do that…you're ripping his coat…"

Harold moved his hand toward the owl to push it off, but it snapped its beak at him, squawking angrily.

"Hagger!" said Harold loudly. "The owl's ripping your coat apart!"

"Well don't just stand there, pay him!" grunted Hagger.

"Pay him?" said Harold incredulously. "Pay him with what? I don't have any money!"

"There's money in one o' me coat pockets," said Hagger.

Harold carefully extended his hand towards the coat, and the owl got out of the way as he began to search the pockets. Finally, he found one on the inside that had coins, but not coins he had ever seen before.

"What currency is this?" asked Harold, trying to ignore the owl's impatient tapping of its foot.

"Give him five Sknuts," said Hagger, sitting up on the couch and rubbing his eyes. "The little bronze ones."

Harold counted out five Sknuts, and the owl held out its leg. A small leather pouch was attached to it. Harold dropped the coins in the pouch, and the owl hooted its thanks as it flew back out the window.

Hagger stood up and gave an enormous yawn, stretching his arms so high that they touched the ceiling. "We'd better go, Harold, lotsa stuff to do today, gotta get up to Boston and buy all yer school stuff."

Harold put the extra coins back in Hagger's pouch, feeling as though someone had just snuffed out the fireworks.

"Hagger," he said quietly, "I don't have any money. How am I supposed to buy school supplies if I'm broke? And Uncle Herman won't pay for anything, you heard him last night!"

"Oh, yeh got nuthin' to worry about," said Hagger, grinning. "Do yeh think yer parents died and left yeh nuthin'?"

"But you said their house was destroyed!"

"They didn't keep it in their house, Harold! First place to go is Stringotts, the wizard's bank. Yeh'd better have a sausage, we're leavin' in a mo'."

"Wizards have banks?" said Harold, stuffing a sausage into his mouth.

"Only one bank. Stringotts. Run by goblins."

Harold choked on his sausage. "Goblins?"

"Yep," said Hagger. "So yeh'd be crazy to try and rob it. I think there's dragons guarding the high-security vaults. Stringotts is the safest place to keep anything valuable…except for Pigzits. As a matter o' fact, I gotta go to Stringotts, too, gotta get summat fer Professor Dunderbore. He trusts me to do important stuff fer him.

"Ready to go? Come on, then."

Hagger led the way out onto the rocky ground. The sun was shining and the water was calm. The boat that Uncle Herman had borrowed was still tied up at the dock and filled with water.

"How did you get here? There isn't another boat," asked Harold, confused.

"I flew here," said Hagger, climbing into the boat.

"You flew?"

"Yep. Flyin' sure is fun. But we gotta go back in this, not supposed to use magic now that I've got yeh."

Harold climbed into the boat and sat down, trying to figure out how Hagger could fly without sinking like a stone.

"Don't feel like rowin' though," said Hagger. "If I speeded things up a bit, would yeh mind not telling anyone?"

"Sure," said Harold, eager to see more magic.

Hagger took out his SpongeBob umbrella and tapped the side of the boat. Without warning, it shot forward like a motorboat. If Harold hadn't been holding on, he would've been thrown out.

"Do-we-have-to-go-this-fast?" shouted Harold over the spray of the water.

"O' COURSE WE DO!" cried Hagger. "YEEE-HAAW!"

He took out his newspaper and opened it up. Harold had no idea how he could read it with its pages flapping in the wind.

"Magical-Ministry-messin'-things-up-as-usual," he yelled.

"There's-a-Magical-Ministry?" Harold was now finding it hard to articulate sentences, for water spraying over the side of the boat kept going into his mouth.

"YEP!" bellowed Hagger, shoving the newspaper back into his coat and throwing his hands up in the air. "THEY-WANTED-DUNDERBORE-TO-BE-THE-MINISTER-BUT-HE-WANTED-TO-STAY-AT-PIGZITS-SO-COLUMBUS-SMUDGE-GOT-THE-JOB!"

"But-what-do-they-do?" yelled Harold.

"THEY-MAKE-SURE-THE-SHMUGGLES-DON'T-KNOW-THAT-THERE-ARE-WITCHES-AND-WIZARDS!" roared Hagger, as the boat leaped into the air and came crashing back down.

"Why?"

"CAUSE-THEN-THEY'LL-BE-WANTING-MAGIC-TO-SOLVE-ALL-THEIR-PROBLEMS! IT'S-BEST-IF-WE-LEAVE-EACH-OTHER-ALONE!"

At that moment, the boat smashed into the shore, and both Harold and Hagger went flying. They landed facedown on the dock with a loud crack. Hagger jumped to his feet and hurried on, leaving Harold to follow as best he could.

Everyone stared at Hagger as he and Harold waited for the subway. Harold thought it was because he kept pointing at ordinary objects and saying things like, "Wow, look at that, Harold! Yeh gotta give these Shmuggles some credit, thinking up this stuff without magic…."

"Hagger," panted Harold, now running to keep up. "Did you say that there's dragons in Stringotts?"

"Oh, yeah," said Hagger, "Wouldn't it be great to have one as a pet?"

"What, a dragon?" said Harold, thinking he had not heard correctly.

"Yeah! I'd love one. Wanted one since I was a kid…ah, here we go!"

The subway had arrived. People stared at Hagger more than ever on the subway, as he took up three seats all by himself and was knitting what looked like a plum-colored tent.

"Yeh got yer letter with yeh, Harold?" he asked while counting his stitches. "There's a list of all the stuff yeh'll need in the envelope."

Harold took the envelope out of his pocket and pulled out another piece of paper he hadn't noticed before. He unfolded it and read:

Pigzits Academy of Magical Education

Attire

First year students will need:

Three sets of plain work robes (purple)

One plain pointed hat (purple) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon skin or similar)

One winter cloak (purple, silver buttons)

Course Books

All students should have a copy of the following books:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Martha Gottshalk

Magic in History by Bertha Bagflop

Theory of Magic by Albert Baffling

Transfiguration for Beginners by Eric Switch

Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllis Mold

The Beginner's Guide to Potions by Arthur Mix

How to Recognize Magical Beasts by Newton Salamander

The Dark Arts: A Beginner's Guide to Protection by Quentin Tremble

Other Equipment

One wand

One cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

One set glass or crystal phials

One set brass scales

One telescope

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

Parents are reminded that first years are not allowed their own broomsticks

"And you can get all this stuff in Boston?" said Harold incredulously.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagger with a wink.

Harold had never been to Boston before. Hagger seemed to know where to go, except he was not used to traveling the Shmuggle way.

"How can Shmuggles manage without magic?" he wailed after getting stuck in the subway doors.

Hagger was so wide he made a path through every crowd; all Harold had to do was keep up with him. They passed many Shmuggle stores, but none looked like they sold anything magical. It was just a normal street full of normal people. Was there really a place for wizards and witches nearby? Or was this all just a prank of Uncle Herman's? Uncle Herman never had a sense of humor before, but he hated Harold so much that anything was possible.

"Here we are!" said Hagger suddenly. "This is the Squeaky Cauldron, Harold."

They had stopped in front of a small, run-down bar. If Hagger hadn't pointed it out to Harold, he never would have noticed it. It seemed as though the Shmuggles didn't notice it either. Their eyes slid from the jewelry shop on the left right to the videogame store on the right. Harold guessed that only he and Hagger knew it was there. Before he could ask Hagger if this was true, they had gone inside.

It was dark and unkempt inside. A couple of old women sat at a small round table, drinking wine that shot bubbles through the air. A small man with a purple top hat was talking to the bartender, who was completely bald and looked as though he had fake teeth. The buzz of voices stopped as Hagger entered the bar. Everyone seemed to know him, waving and saying, "Hey, Hagger!", and the bartender reached for a glass saying, "The usual, Hagger?"

"Not today, Ted. I'm on Pigzits business at the mo'," said Hagger, patting Harold on the shoulder so hard his knees buckled. Grabbing a chair to keep himself from collapsing, Harold looked around the bar at the faces that had suddenly gone from curious to astonished.

"Oh my God!" cried Ted, leaping over the counter with surprising agility. "It's Harold Plodder!" He ran up to Harold and shook his hand enthusiastically, saying, "Welcome to the Squeaky Cauldron!"

There came the sounds of chairs scraping on wood, and a line of people formed in front of Harold.

"Dora Smockford, Mr. Plodder, I can't believe I'm finally meeting you!"

"You did a great job defeating That Guy, Harold!"

"Can I have your autograph? Please? Please?"

"Harold, nice to meet you, I'm Nicholas Wiggle, can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Hey, I know you!" cried Harold, and Nicholas Wiggle dropped his glass in excitement. "You bowed to me in a store once!"

"You remember!" Wiggle yelled, tears leaking out of his eyes. "You hear that, people?" he called to the others in the bar, "he remembers that I was stalking him!"

A young man shuffled forward, looking extremely nervous. His hands were shaking.

"Professor Quiddle!" cried Hagger, shaking his hand enthusiastically. "He'll be one o' yer teachers at Pigzits, Harold."

"Pl-Pl-Plodder," stammered Quiddle, taking Harold's hand. "I-I-I'm so happy to f-f-finally m-meet you. I-I teach Defense Against the D-D-Dark arts at Pigzits."

"Wow, that's great," said Harold uncomfortably.

As Quiddle moved away, the crowd surged forward again, but Hagger shielded Harold from the eager hands and steered him towards a small door that Harold guessed led to a courtyard.

"No, no, that's quite enough!" said Hagger loudly as Dora Smockford tried to grab Harold's hand again. "We gotta go, gotta get Harold's school things now." Pushing open the door, he shoved Harold through it and slammed it shut, breathing heavily.

"Well," he said, smiling, "didn't I tell yeh that you were famous?"

"Is everyone going to act like that?" said Harold, massaging his hands. "And why was that Quiddle guy so terrified?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Hagger, examining a brick wall in the courtyard. "He's always been terrified, I think he's even scared of his own subject."

Hagger pulled out his SpongeBob umbrella and began counting bricks above a trash can that was leaning against the wall.

"Right, stand back now, Harold." he said, raising the umbrella. Harold scrambled backward, and Hagger tapped a brick three times with the tip of the umbrella. The brick started to shake, and without warning, there was an earsplitting roar that seemed to come from the wall itself. The brick burst into flame, and soon the other bricks were on fire. When the smoke cleared, Harold could see an archway in the wall that had not been there before.

"Welcome," said Hagger, stuffing his umbrella back in his coat, "to Dragon Alley!"

Harold gaped at the wall stupidly, and Hagger had to give him a little push to get him to start walking forward. He turned around just in time to see the wall burst into flame again, and the archway disappear.

They walked along a long cobblestone street with shops lining either sides. Harold turned his head this way and that, looking like a satellite dish. He wished could see everything at once; the shops and their signs, the things on display in the windows or outside, and the people themselves. A slightly fat woman was yelling at the cashier in the Apothecary, and as Harold walked by, he could hear her shouting, "Are you crazy? I am not paying sixteen Fickles for an ounce of dragon liver…." They passed another shop, this one called Skylops Owl Emporium, and several boys Harold's age had their faces pressed against the window of Quality Quippish Equipment, whispering, "Look at that-the Cumulonimbus Two-Thousand…." Finally, they stopped in front of a gigantic white building that towered over the other shops. Something was standing next to its bronze doors….

"Welcome to Stringotts," said Hagger. "And I see you've seen yer first goblin."

Harold stared. The goblin was about a head shorter than him, and had very long fingers. It bowed as they entered. Now they faced a second pair of doors, and as Harold looked closely, he could see words engraved upon them:

LISTEN UP, MAGICAL STRANGER, YOU BETTER NOT STEAL FROM THE BANK OF STRINGOTTS, BECAUSE IF YOU DO, WE'LL CATCH YOU, AND YOU'LL BE SORRY. SO WATCH IT!

"That's not very poetic," said Harold.

"Yeah, well, yeh don't want to mess with goblins, Harold." said Hagger.

The doors opened, and now they were in a long hall made entirely of marble. Hundreds of goblins were sitting at long counters, examining different coins and jewels, or else scribbling madly in giant books. Hagger strode up to a smaller counter where a single goblin was writing on a piece of paper.

"Uh, hey there," said Hagger, and the goblin looked up. "We've come to get some cash from Harold Plodder's safe."

"Do you have his key?" asked the goblin in a bored voice.

"Um…hold on a sec'," said Hagger, and he started dumping the contents of his pockets onto the counter, which included a bag of cheese, several red marbles, and a box of cat treats. The goblin rolled his eyes. Finally, Hagger grinned and pulled out a tiny golden key. The goblin took it and examined it closely, saying, "Yep, that's the right key. Is that all?"

"Nope." said Hagger, puffing out his chest and pulling an envelope out of his pocket. "Professor Dunderbore wants me to get the you-know-what from vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four."

The goblin read the letter, and then folded it back up. "Alrighty then," he said. "I'll call someone to take you down to the vaults." He handed Hagger the letter, turned around, and shouted, "SPLICKHOOK!"

Another goblin hurried forward. Hagger turned to follow him, shouting over his shoulder, "O', and by the way, yeh can keep that stuff, I don't need it." Harold glanced back to see the goblin at the counter groan.

"What's the you-know-what-" Harold began, but Hagger cut him off.

"Can't tell yeh that, Harold, I'll get fired! Its very secret stuff."

Splickhook held open a door that led to a stone passageway with flaming torches hanging every few yards on the walls. He whistled loudly, and a small wagon came hurtling down the tracks and screeched to a stop next to the group. They all climbed in (Hagger having to sit on the end with his butt hanging over the edge) and the wagon shot forward. Hagger gave a yelp and grabbed the sides, but Harold laughed. This was fun! He tried to remember which way the wagon was going, but soon lost track. After about five minutes, they stopped. Hagger threw himself out and staggered over to the wall. Splickhook gave him a look before climbing out of the wagon and saying, "Your vault is here, Mr. Plodder."

Harold watched as Splickhook unlocked the door with the tiny key. It swung open with a creak, purple smoke billowed out, and when it cleared, Harold could see piles and piles of coins. Towers of gold, silver, and the little bronze Sknuts. He couldn't believe all this was his. Hagger abandoned his spot against the wall to help Harold put some money in a bag.

"These gold coins are Twalleons," he said. "Seventeen silver Fickles to a Twalleon and twenty-nine Sknuts to a Fickle, its not that hard to understand." He turned to Splickhook. "Vault eight million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred and fifty-four, now, and can we possibly slow down a bit?"

"No," said Splickhook. Hagger groaned.

The wagon shot forward again, but this time they seemed to be going deeper. The air got colder, and the wind blowing from the speed of the wagon did not help. Finally they stopped. Harold looked at the door, realizing that there was no keyhole in it.

"Stand back," warned Splickhook.

"No problem," moaned Hagger, leaning against a wall. "Think I'm gonna be sick…"

Splickhook tickled the door with his long fingers, and Harold could've sworn he heard the door giggle before it melted away. He leaned forward eagerly, expecting something extraordinary…but the only thing that was in the vault was a small, grimy-looking package laying on the floor. Hagger stumbled into the vault and picked up the package. As he straightened up, he heaved.

"Not in here!" yelled Splickhook, but it was too late. Hagger opened his mouth…and burped the loudest and longest burp Harold had ever heard in his life.

"Ahh, that's better," he said, grinning. "Let's go buy yer things now, Harold."

After a crazy wagon ride later, they stood on the steps of Stringotts. Harold was thinking about how Spudley would react if he ever found out how much money Harold actually had when Hagger interrupted his fantasy.

"Yeh should probably get yer school uniform first," he said, pointing towards Miss Falcon's Robes For All Circumstances. "And while yer in there, I'll go an' get a Wizard's Beer in the Squeaky Cauldron. Helps settle my stomach."

So Harold entered the shop alone, feeling nervous. Miss Falcon met him at the door, a small, chubby witch wearing periwinkle robes and a kind smile.

"Need some Pigzits robes, dear?" she asked, and Harold nodded. "Go right to the back, there's another kid getting robes too."

Harold went to the back of the store to see another boy standing on a stool while a second witch fitted him. He had silvery blonde hair and a pale, pointed face. Harold stood on the next stool, and Miss Falcon started on him.

"Yo," said the boy. "Pigzits?"

"Yeah," said Harold.

"Dad's buying my books and Mom's up the street looking at wands," he said. He sounded extremely bored. "Once all that's done, I'm gonna drag them over to look at racing brooms. Why can't first years have their own brooms? It sucks! Maybe I'll harass my dad until he gets me one. Do you have a broom?" he shot at Harold.

"No," said Harold.

"What? Why not? Do you play Quippish at all?"

"No," said Harold, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"Well, I do. I'd better be picked to play for my House when the time comes. Wish it could be now. Know what House you'll be in?"

"No," said Harold, feeling like an idiot.

"Well, of course you don't, no one does, until you get there, but I know I'll be in Hisserin, my whole family has been…imagine getting put in Snufflepuff, I'd walk right out, wouldn't you?"

"I guess so," said Harold.

"Oh my God, look at that guy!" cried the boy, pointing out the window. Hagger was standing there, holding two giant ice creams and grinning at Harold.

"That's Hagger," said Harold. "He works at Pigzits."

"Yeah, I've heard he's some sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's not a servant, he's the Gamekeeper," snapped Harold. He found he was liking the kid less and less.

"Yes, that. Well, Dad told me he lives in a hut by the forest and he's always getting drunk and setting his house on fire when he tries to do simple magic."

"Yes, well, I think he's awesome," said Harold coldly.

"Oh, so-ree," said the boy. " Why are you with him? Where's your parents?"

"They're dead," snapped Harold.

"Oh, that's too bad," said the boy, and Harold knew he didn't care. "Who are you, again?"

Before Harold could answer, Miss Falcon said, "Okay, you're all set." Harold stepped off the stool and ignored the boy as he said, "See you at Pigzits, then."

Harold was quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagger had bought him (strawberry with hot fudge and sprinkles).

"Hagger, what's Quippish?" he asked.

"Jeez, Harold, I forgot how much yeh don't know!" said Hagger. "Well, it's sorta hard to explain…it's a sport, see, played on broomsticks, there's four balls…don't really know how ter explain the rules…"

"That's okay," said Harold. "And what are Hisserin and Snufflepuff?"

"School Houses," grunted Hagger, sucking up melted ice cream through a straw. "There's four o' them. Yeh'll find out which House yer in when yeh get there, don't worry. They each have their own history and reputation. For example, there wasn't a single witch or wizard who turned evil who wasn't in Hisserin. That Guy was one of them."

After they finished their ice creams, Hagger took Harold to a store called Paper and Ink to get his schoolbooks. Harold had a great time looking around at all the different sizes, shapes, and colors of books piled on shelves that stretched up to the ceiling. Hagger had to yank him away from a book called How to Make Your Enemies Regret What They Did to You.

"Aw, come on!" Harold complained. "I wanna figure out how to curse Spudley!"

"That's a great idea!" cried Hagger. "But unfortunately, yeh can't use magic outside o' school unless yer dying or something. And yeh'll need a lot o' practice before yeh can do those kinds of spells."

Hagger wouldn't let him buy a solid gold cauldron either ("Didn't yeh read yer list at all? It says PEWTER!") but he got a nice set of scales for weighing ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope to look at the sky with. Then they went to the Apothecary, where Hagger asked the man working there if he had any basic potion ingredients for Harold, while Harold examined a unicorn horn hanging from the ceiling.

"Just yer wand, now," said Hagger, checking the list. "And I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"A birthday present?" said Harold, feeling overwhelmed.

"O' course, it was yer birthday yesterday, wasn't it?" said Hagger. "I'll get yeh an animal. Not a toad, they're ugly and yeh'll get teased. Not a cat, they make me sneeze really loud and it's embarrassing. I'll get yeh an owl, it'll carry yer mail and everything."

Moments later, they left Skylops Owl Emporium carrying a beautiful snowy owl in a cage. Harold was stammering his thanks so fast he sounded like Professor Quiddle.

"Aw, be quiet," said Hagger gruffly. "It's about time someone gave yeh a decent birthday present. Now, come on. Time to get yer wand."

Harold felt like jumping up and down with excitement. The wand shop had a sign on the door that read Olivehanders, Makers of the Greatest Wands since the Time of the Cavemen. The window display was nothing extravagant, just a single wand lying on a fluffy purple cushion. A little bell rang as Hagger pushed open the door, and they walked inside.

It was very small inside, just a desk with a chair behind it towards the back of the room. Lining the walls were hundreds of shelves holding hundreds of narrow, rectangular boxes. Hagger sat down on the single wicker chair by the door.

"Why, hello!" said a voice suddenly. Hagger yelped and jumped off the chair, staggered into the wall, and came crashing back down. There was the sound of splintering wood, and Hagger got back up, his face red, the chair in pieces.

An old man was standing in front of them. He had little hair, and big, round eyes.

"Um…how's it going?" asked Harold uncomfortably.

"Ah, it goes good, Mr. Plodder," said the man. "Yes, I knew I'd be seeing you sometime this year, Mr. Plodder. I see you have your mom's eyes. I remember when she bought her first wand. Ten and a half inches, wooshy, made of willow. That wand was great for Charm work."

Mr. Olivehander got closer, his eyes wide.

"Um, sir…could you blink, please?" asked Harold, getting creeped out.

"Certainly," said Mr. Olivehander, blinking slowly. "Your dad, on the other hand, had a mahogany wand. Eleven and a quarter inches. Bendy. A bit more powerful, and great for Transfiguration."

He got closer and poked Harold in the forehead.

"I'm sorry about that scar," he whispered. "I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and three quarter inches. Yew. Phoenix feather core. That wand was very powerful…still is…if I'd known what it would do…"

He looked away, and spotted Hagger.

"Ah! Rupert Hagger! Sixteen inches, Oak, pretty flexible, wasn't it? Didn't they snap it in half when you got expelled?"

"Um, yes sir," said Hagger nervously. "I still have the pieces, though…"

"Do you use the pieces?" snapped Olivehander.

"No sir, no no no, I don't use them, nope, I don't," said Hagger quickly. Liar, thought Harold, but he wasn't going to rat him out.

"Anyway, Mr. Plodder, we need to get you a wand, now. Which is your wand arm?"

"Um…well, I'm right handed," said Harold.

"That'll work. Hold out your arm…" he took out a silver tape measure and started measuring Harold all over his body, not just his arm. While he measured, he said, "Each Olivehander wand is unique, as each one has a different core. Unicorn hairs, phoenix feathers, and dragon heartstrings are commonly used as cores in wands. Wizards and witches are able to channel magic through almost any magical instrument, but will achieve better results when they use their own. The wand chooses the wizard, you see."

He yanked away the tape measure, saying, "That's enough measuring," and handed Harold a wooden stick. "Try this wand first, Harold. Nine inches, beechwood and dragon heartstring, bendy. Just wave it around."

Harold waved the wand around, feeling embarrassed when nothing happened. Olivehander yanked the wand away and replaced it with another one.

"Never mind, try this one…maple, phoenix feather, seven inches…"

Harold waved the wand, but Olivehander snatched it away again.

"No no no! How 'bout this? Ebony and unicorn hair, eight inches…?"

Harold waved and waved and waved, feeling frustrated. On the contrary, Olivehander was delighted as each wand didn't work, saying, "Ha ha, tricky customer, eh? Don't worry, we'll find a wand for you, even if we have to go through this whole blasted shop…Try this one, eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather core, nice and lithe."

Harold took the wand, feeling a sudden warmth in his hand. He waved the wand in the air, and a rush of multicolored sparks shot out the end. They formed themselves into three words: I choose you.

"YEAH, HAROLD!" roared Hagger, clapping his hands, and Olivehander took the wand and put it back in its box. "Great job Harold, wonderful, wonderful…well, this sure is weird…very weird, oh yes…"

"What's weird?" asked Harold.

"Oh, nothing, just that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave just one other feather, and it just so happens that your parents' murderer has that wand." said Olivehander vaguely.

Harold stared at him. Olivehander finished wrapping up the box and looked up.

"Yeah, that's pretty weird, isn't it? Now, this wand costs seven Twalleons, so pay up!"

Harold paid for his wand, and he and Hagger left the shop, Harold still trying to figure out whether he liked Mr. Olivehander or not. He and Hagger went back through the roaring wall, through the Squeaky Cauldron, and back onto the Shmuggle street. Hagger suggested they get a bite to eat, and Harold agreed.

"Yeh alright, Harold?" said Hagger, as he watched Harold chewing his hot dog. "Yer pretty quiet."

Harold swallowed what was in his mouth, and tried to find the right words.

"I don't think I can do this, Hagger," he began. "Everyone knows who I am, and some keep congratulating me for defeating That Guy. But I don't even remember what happened, and I don't know how to do magic! I'm already a famous person, but I don't know anything about myself!"

Hagger smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry, Harold," he said. "You'll learn fast when yer at Pigzits, and you'll have lots o' fun, too. I did, and I still do! Remember to just be yerself, and you'll be fine."

After Harold finished eating, Hagger took him back to the subway station so Harold could go back to the Durskeys. He also handed him an envelope. "Yer ticket," he explained to Harold. "Be at this subway station at eleven o' clock, and if yeh have any issues with the Durskey dummies, send a message with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…Later, Harold!"

The subway started to move, and before Harold could wave back, he had disappeared.

Hooray! Harold is famous! And he has all his stuff! Hip hip hooray! Now review, or I will tell a Stringotts goblin to kidnap you and send you on a wild wagon ride! OH NO! THE HORROR!