By the time the three had emerged from the stacks, they were talking easily about the books, Hogwarts, tiny stories about magic, and a few other things.

Hermione's parents were amazed when they saw their daughter talking confidently with two boys her own age. They were used to their daughter having trouble making friends and being very upset with how the other kids treated her. If for that alone, they were feeling more confident and happy at their choice in allowing Hermione to attend Hogwarts.

They were also quite happy that Hermione had taken so little time in the store. Normally, it was impossible to get her out of a bookstore or a library.

When the three and all of the adults left the bookstore, Harry turned to the adults. "Can Hermione come with us while we get the rest of the supplies?"

Madame Longbottom was looking at her grandson. The normally very shy and quiet boy was suddenly quite different. At his hopeful look, she couldn't find it within herself to object. Hermione's parents saw the same look on their daughter's face and had the same response. Remus really had all the time in the world, as he and Harry wouldn't meet up with Professor Dumbledore until 6:00.

Professor McGonagall thought about it for a moment. When she looked at Remus he calmly said, "The more the merrier. If you wish, I can take responsibility for ensuring she is properly introduced as I am already doing so with Harry and it would be no trouble." He turned toward the Granger parents'. "Do either of you have an objection?"

The Grangers looked at each other and then turned back. Mrs. Granger said, "As long as everything is taken care of, it should be fine." Hermione squealed a bit at that and her parents smiled happily at her.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "It would allow me to complete a number of administrative tasks still having to be done for the new school year. Ms. Granger, here is your ticket for the Hogwarts express. Mr. Lupin can explain how to access the platform. Do you have any questions for me?"

Hermione shook her head and remembering Harry's comments said, "No. Thank you very much for introducing my parents and myself to Diagon Alley. I look forward to your class."

Professor McGonagall smiled at the girl. "I look forward to having you. Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom, you as well. I shall see all of you September 1, if we do not see one other earlier."

The boys replied politely and Professor McGonagall made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron to access their floo.

The expanded shopping party made their way across the alley to the magical instruments shop, where trunks and telescopes could be found. Harry already had both so just made suggestions to both of the others.

Hermione had asked why she couldn't get a more powerful Mundane telescope. Remus explained that although Magical telescopes didn't have the power of Mundane ones, they were charmed to see the sky in detail even when there was cloud cover or still light pollution from the sun only recently being down. Hermione was impressed, as were her parents.

Finally, the group made its way down the road toward the last item on the list – except Hermione who still needed her potions equipment and Harry who still was getting an owl.

Remus said, "Next stop, the wand shop."

Neville looked a bit worriedly at his gran. She didn't disappoint. "Neville will be using his father's wand, as it's an honorable wand which saw service in the last war."

Harry looked at Remus in alarm, "Umm. Remus? Didn't you say that everyone's magic is different?"

Remus looked over at the older woman and then to Neville. Finally, he answered Harry – by avoiding the issue altogether. "Well, I am certain that Mr. Ollivander can ensure that the wand is correct for young Neville."

Mrs. Longbottom was about to protest whatever Remus' response was after the impertinent question (in her mind) by Harry Potter. She was satisfied, however, by the response. Neville would see it was perfectly acceptable, and she wouldn't be accused of impropriety.

As the group made its way, Harry got more excited.

A magic wand…this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling.

He commented quietly to Hermione and Neville, "For some reason, the back of my neck is prickling. It's like the shop is tingling with magic."

Both of the other two paused and closed their eyes. Both then opened their eyes as Neville said, "I see what you mean! I don't think I ever felt magic like that!"

Hermione also said she felt it. "It's like you're being showered with it."

The Granger parents looked over to Remus to see what his reply would be. His face took on a look of surprise. Before he could comment, a soft voice interrupted. "Rare it is for those coming for a wand to notice that. I look forward to fitting you all."

An old man was standing before the group, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

The three children flinched a bit, not expecting the sudden appearance of the man. Remus chuckled.

"Remus Lupin, cypress wood, unicorn tail hair, ten and a quarter inches, quite pliable. Excellent wand for Defense in the protection of others."

Remus smiled as he said to the shopkeeper, "Still scaring the customers, Mr. Ollivander? I remember my first trip here."

Mr. Ollivander just smiled mysteriously. "I see we have three to get their wands."

Madame Longbottom interrupted, "Mr. Ollivander, a question has arisen. I have told my grandson he would be using his father's wand – a wand with a noble history. Mr. Potter mentioned that others had suggested that such would not be proper. We would like your professional opinion."

Ollivander looked at Neville with a mysterious look. "I would have to measure him. Is the wand present?"

Augusta answered in the negative. "While the others are fitted, I shall apparate home and retrieve it if necessary."

Mr. Ollivander nodded. "I shall fit the other two while you do so."

Augusta left, after asking Remus to keep an eye out. He nodded.

Mr. Ollivander turned. "A Muggleborn student, and Mr. Harry Potter. Who shall be first?"

Harry pushed Hermione forward.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ms. Granger, welcome to Ollivanders. Let's take a few measurements." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Hermione lifted her arm. "I'm right-handed."

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

He measured Hermione from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. 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, normally you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry saw that the tape measure, which was measuring between Hermione's nostrils, was doing this on its own.

Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Ms. Granger. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Hermione hesitantly waved the wand, and Ollivander snatched the wand from her. "No, that will never do." He pulled another, "Try this one."

Hermione waved the wand, and a swath of blue and gold sparks lit the shop. "Excellent. Vine-wood, 12 inches. A wand of balance, for someone with high goals and a passion for learning things." Hermione blushed as she retreated with her wand. She admired it, even as Harry moved forward.

Mr. Ollivander repeated his measurements, even as he spoke. "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."

Mr. Ollivander paused before he continued. 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. Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Neville was becoming more convinced he would have to have his own wand. Madame Longbottom arrived back, as Mr. Ollivander was making his comments.

"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 made his way back to the stacks to get some boxes.

He returned and handed a wand to Harry. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. The Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible."

Harry took the wand and 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. Give it a wave."

Harry 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."

Harry tried. And tried. 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.

"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 a 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. Remus and the others whooped and clapped and 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. 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."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. The others in the shop, if he had asked, would have agreed with him. He asked everyone there to keep that bit quiet. All agreed.

Harry stepped back, even as Madame Longbottom presented the wand she had went to retrieve.

Mr. Ollivander looked at it. "Yes. Another Mahogany. 12 inches. Pliable. Once again, good for Tranfiguration. A powerful wand."

He measured Neville, the same way that he had measured the others. He handed the wand to Neville and asked him to wave it. Not much happened as he did so. Ollivander shook his head. "I thought not. This wand is not for you. If you were to use your parent's wand, your mothers would likely have been a closer match." He turned toward Augusta. "Mr. Potter was correct to question it. The wand would not have worked well for Mr. Longbottom."

Augusta was disappointed and in her mind equated it as failure on Neville's part. But she would keep it to herself for the moment. "Very well. Neville will need a wand."

Mr. Ollivander went and got several boxes, including one of those that Harry had not taken.

The first several had not achieved a good result. Some did nothing, others caused explosions. Mr. Ollivander was getting happy again.

Finally, he handed another wand to Neville. "13 inches. Cherry with the hair of a unicorn."

Neville took the wand and was amazed at the feeling he got as he held it. In a bit of a daze, he waved it and an enormous amount of sparks appeared.

"Very good! An excellent wand for Defense and Charms. Cherry represents death, rebirth, and new awakenings. A wand for a Wizard who is coming in to his own, breaking free from past expectations. I expect great things from all three of you."

Truthfully, he normally did not espouse on what the woods represented. However, he had seen the reaction that Augusta Longbottom had hidden upon the wand rejecting her grandson. He was a wand crafter, he dealt in truth – regardless of connotation. But he was not heartless.

Each paid seven Galleons for their wands. Before they left, however, Remus had a suggestion. "I recommend holsters and polishing kits. A well-cared for wand is a much more reliable wand."

Ollivander agreed and so each bought the extra accessories. Finally the group made it out of the shop. Madame Longbottom had not gotten away to take care of the items she had wanted, and so she said, "We have completed the shopping, Neville. Say goodbye to your new friends."

Neville, Harry, and Hermione spoke. Harry volunteered, "I'm getting an owl today. Would you mind if I write?"

Neville smiled broadly. "Not at all. Hermione, would you like to write?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not getting an owl today. I'm not sure how I could."

Harry said, "Well, I can send the owl to you before Neville and then you can send a letter on with my letter. Then Neville can send back to me and we can keep a round going."

Neville added, "I can use the owl at home and send messages as well. Just ask the owl to wait for a reply."

Hermione beamed at the two boys. She was extremely happy she had met them. She glomped Neville, who had never been hugged by a girl before and so was very embarrassed. Hermione then repeated the action with Harry.

Neville then followed his grandmother and Harry and Hermione waited until he was gone before turning to head back the other way to finish out the trip.

The reduced-in-size party moved back down the alley.

Harry was looking forward to visiting the Quidditch store. Hermione still had to get her potions supplies.

Harry, in looking around saw a shop at the end of the alley. "Remus? What about that store?" Hermione also looked at the store with interest.

The store Harry pointed to was the Junk Shop. Remus smiled as though in remembrance. "Yes, a store with many odds and ends, a good place to find the odd item which otherwise can't be found. I don't think we have time to do it justice. Let's go down to the Owl Emporium."

Harry nodded. In truth, he had interest toward everything in the Alley and resolved to see each store at some point. Hermione was also looking around with interest. "What is that Alley?" Hermione pointed to a dark entrance off to the side.

Remus looked over. "Knockturn Alley. Not a place to find yourself at night or alone. I highly recommend not exploring that until you are older. Many who are," Remus paused in thought for a moment, "unusual – unusual is a good word – in their lives or requirements are located there. This includes those that are more interested in Dark magic, hags, the odd vampire, and those that are looking for things not normally found. In a way, many of the shops are the same as those you can find in Diagon Alley – they just do not necessarily cater to ministry expectations in what they sell. There are a few pubs and the clientele is a somewhat rougher crowd."

Harry nodded in reply. It sounded interesting – but not that interesting.

Harry saw another shop. He looked over at Hermione and her parents. "How about a stop at that shop – I want to see if it's different in the Wizarding world." Harry pointed to Florean Fortescue's shop.

The Granger parents looked at each other and then Mr. Granger said, "Normally we avoid sweets as we are dentists and encourage Hermione to do so as well. I think we can indulge in a treat though."

Remus chuckled as they walked to the shop. "While I can agree with the effect that too much sugar can have on teeth, wizards and witches tend to have less problems with it. Also, we use up more energy. So what would be considered an unhealthy amount or type of food otherwise isn't necessarily so for the young witch or wizard. Most, especially the most powerful, tend to eat much more sugar than others. Albus, Professor Dumbledore, mentioned yesterday that he had only recently cut back a bit to get fitter – but he isn't fat or even chubby. He's also famous for liking candy. He's past his century mark and is far from elderly in his lifestyle."

The Grangers were interested and continued asking Remus about things, even as Harry and Hermione were looking over the menu.

The two pre-teens were amazed at the number of options. The proprietor arrived to their table. "Hello! Welcome to Florean Forescue's (that's me) Ice Cream Parlor! What would you like?"

Harry had a chocolate with raspberry with nuts. Hermione had a simple chocolate. Remus ordered a small chocolate until Harry insisted he wanted to cover it as thanks for taking him around. Harry also insisted Remus get a larger one. Remus was too happy spending time with Harry to argue the point too heartily. The Grangers got two ice creams less sweet varieties, each with their own flavor.

The group chatted about things until finished and then left, thanking Mr. Fortescue on the way out.

They made their way two doors down and entered the Owl Emporium. The witch at the counter welcomed them. "Welcome to the Owl Emporium. What can I get for you folks today?"

Harry answered, "I'm about to go to Hogwarts and decided to get an owl. I need to get the supplies for an owl as well."

The clerk nodded. "Come back this way, and you can look at the different options."

Harry and Hermione moved toward the area which contained the cages. There were many of different breeds. There were several Tawny Owls, Brown Owls, Screech Owls, Barn Owls, Long and Short-Eared Owls, and a very few European Eagle Owls. Harry's eyes lit up when he saw that there was one Snowy Owl – and no other in the shop.

Harry asked the woman about it. "Yeah, we don't normally have Snowy Owls. Just happened to have one – she's a beauty isn't she?"

Harry continued staring at the owl and nodded. "How much for the Snowy?"

The woman thought about it. "Most owls are 10 or 15 Galleons. I'd let the Snowy go for 20. Supplies for another 4."

Harry agreed. The Snowy Owl really was a beauty. She was also rather easy to get along with and seemed to react rather positively to Harry's presence.

Harry and Remus made their way to Quality Quidditch Supplies, while Hermione picked up her supplies at the Apothecary. After completing that business, Harry helped Hermione at the Magical Instruments shop to get her telescope as well as other items.

Finally, the shopping was done.

Hermione, not wanting to leave one of her first friends, was very nervous. "Harry? Can we exchange addresses and phone numbers?" Her parents looked quite agreeable.

Harry gave her the info but said, "My godfather was recently made available again. I might move, but right now that's where I live with my aunt and her family."

Hermione carefully stowed the information in the trunk she had acquired - her father was happy to no longer have to carry many packages, however shrunken they were - and then hugged Harry quite hard before she left with her parents.

Harry looked over at Remus. "I have to say, two friends and it's only been two days is really nice."

Remus just smiled. "Great friends can be hard to come by. I found some of the greatest when I was your age." He looked at a pocket watch. "We have a bit before Professor Dumbledore arrives. Let's move back to the Cauldron and I can show you the Knight Bus and how we are getting to Arabella Figg's place."

Albus made his way to the records room. The Wizengamot session that day had been a bit tedious. There were no new laws proposed or debated. The most time was taken by ritual and data collection on the budget requests by the various Ministry departments. These would be debated beginning on the next Monday.

Afterward, he made his way to the Wizengamot Administrative Offices. There as one employee available. The man was a bit nervous. "Chief Warlock, how many I help you?"

"Hello, Mr. Clark. I have come to obtain a records search on a particular family."

After completing the search for the files and obtaining copies, Albus made his way back to Hogwarts. He had things to complete before his rendezvous with young Harry and Remus.

4:00 saw an older gentleman walking down Privet Drive in the suburban neighbourhood of Little Whinging. He was dressed in what would be considered good fashion a half a century earlier: Grey tweed suit with a tweed trilby hat, brown Oxford shoes, probably made by Brooks Brothers. He was smiling pleasantly, but not too pleasantly. The most remarkable aspect to those that saw him was his long hair and beard, a starlingly pure white. He reminded many of the residents of grandfathers and fathers, veterans who kept themselves in fighting trim after the Great War.

Two of the residents were out "admiring the garden" in the yard of one of them - in actual fact they were gossiping. The man tipped his hat to the middle-aged women. Both giggled at the gentlemanly manners, reminding them of teachers they had fancied when they were girls going away to school.

The man made his way to 4 Privet Drive – the home of Petunia Dursley. Petunia was well-known in the neighbourhood as a gossip. She had a young son whom she verbally praised to all the neighbours and a nephew which she did not like talking about. Petunia had mentioned that Dudley was going to his father's old public school, Smeltings Academy. The nephew, Petunia had reluctantly mentioned, was going to be attending the local secondary comprehensive, Stonewall High.

Shortly thereafter, the much-touted Dudley was seen leaving the home looking less than pleased. He was shortly thereafter seen making his way to the local park speaking to another local boy, Peirs Polkiss, who was also known to be attending Smeltings.

One of the local chatterers overheard a small part of their conversation. It wasn't as though the boys were keeping their voices down – regardless of the fact that the lady in question seemed unduly hasty in making her own way to putter in her front garden, putting her in prime position.

"... second bedroom. He's also going to some school up in Scotland his Mum and Da attended. ... They didn't seem to want me to have too many details, so I don't know. Probably some ..." It was unfortunate that Dudley had moved out of earshot.

It was also noted that the older gentleman left shortly before 6:00 and made his way to another home in the area – Mrs. Figg, on Wisteria Walk. She was known by the locals as having a few too many cats, but was considered otherwise harmless. She was also known to sit for the nephew Petunia did not like talking about.

Other observations found that the nephew in question had arrived to Mrs. Figg's from ... somewhere (no one knew but none considered it important for some reason) in the company of another man. That man seemed a bit worn around the edges, but many of the younger women in the neighbourhood pronounced him quite dishy in a bad-boy-become-scholar kind of way. None of the women who made those observations could explain their impressions, but all quite agreed.

The older man, the younger man, and the nephew all made their way back to Number 4 and were ensconsed inside for at least an hour. The two men were them seen leaving. The older man still seemed to be smiling pleasantly but the younger man had a look on his face which reinforced the former-bad-boy feeling, regardless of the fact he seemed to be cheerful.

The next day, the nephew seemed to do some yard work – but not as much as he had been seen doing in the past. He also, for some reason, didn't seem quite so scruffy as in the past. Dudley, Peirs, and two other local boys that played together were seen to be walking around the neighbourhood disgruntled in some way, but none really knew why.

The next week or so saw several visitors to Privet Drive which gave fuel to the meetings of the locals.

An expensive car stopped by, and a young girl was seen to get out of it. The Dursleys, dressed in their best, were apparent as was the nephew. It was surprising to a number of the neighbours that the girl seemed to bypass the son and flew into the nephew's arms, chattering at a mile a minute. The housewife of Number Seven later identified the couple with the girl as her sister's high-priced dentist. The nephew was seen leaving with the couple and returning – once again using some means not considered important – later that evening.

Roughly a week later, a motorcycle pulled up to the house driven by a man that the younger housewives agreed was still a bad-boy – and also quite dishy. Number Eleven had been in her yard and overheard the man call the nephew "godson" and, in an unguarded moment while the two were having their fun, was heard to remonstrate the nephew about treating his Godfather who was from a Noble house so poorly.

The neighbours started to get the idea that what they knew of the nephew wasn't quite correct.

The nephew was not seen as much as he seemed to come and go, none being quite certain as to his means of travel (but that wasn't important). The nephew had left for the summer after the first third of August. A red-haired man and his three red-haired children arrived in an older blue car: A classic that had been lovingly cared for in all appearance (it seemed to have a new paint job). Two of them, twins apparently, helped carry the nephew's school trunk and a cage for a bird (but no bird was present for some reason) while the nephew and the younger boy seemed to chatter on about sports ... or something. The boys seemed pleasant – but seemed to have odd colors in their clothing. The younger red-haired boy had worn an old-fashioned sports jersey that was bright orange and had the name of a sports team none had heard about: Chudley something-or-another.

Vernon Dursley had been heard to call the school the boy was attending St. Brutus' School of Incurably Criminal Boys; Vernon was considered solid but a bit unsubtle. Number Seven had heard from her sister who had heard from her dentist that their daughter was going to some selective private school for the gifted. They didn't pass on the name, but mentioned that was because many government workers sent their children there. The nephew seemed to be a school chum. It was also noted that Petunia – who normally never passed on opportunity to complain about her nephew – never mentioned the name of the school he attended. She also seemed a bit less complaining in general.

The husbands were told by their wives what they had learned. It was agreed by the neighbourhood that the boy's image as a wastrel passed on by the Dursleys in the past was cover for the nephew being from some old family or another too well known and therefore safer if mostly unknown or considered less than acceptable to spend time with.

The neighbours nodded and agreed with the Dursleys on the few negative comments, all knowing that the Dursleys were just doing their best so to protect the young nephew from some threat that would materialize if he was known to be living there and known for who he actually was. They agreed collectively to keep this information within the neighbourhood in order to protect the nephew and the family who did such an unpleasant task so completely believably – if they didn't know better.

Wulfric fumed as the images on the screen were shown. Harry was showing too much independence and charisma to be easily led. He should have been guided more carefully than Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Minerva, and his blasted replacement were doing so.

He had suggested to Augusta that perhaps his father's wand would fit. He did not think that the other possible prophecy child should be too powerful. If necessary, Wulfric would have gotten him his own wand and saved the day.

And that Muggleborn girl could have been used to control Harry. But, Oh no! The boy had had to make nice to every damn fellow student he met. At this rate, subtle control in the background of the image of the boy could not be effective!

His only hope was for it all to fall apart.

Lily and James were celebrating Harry making friends. And then blowing raspberries at Wulfric. And then celebrating again.

This really was tedious for the old man.