Harry frowned, but nothing the man said could faze him. He was about to get his very own wand!

Harry's spirits fell a bit when they reached Olivander's. The gold paint on the sign was flecking off, and display window was empty except for a single matte-brown wand laying on a purple pillow. The tip was splintered - the wood fragments charred black. Professor Snape noticed his crestfallen expression and smirked.

"Don't let appearances fool you, Potter. That wand defeated Grindelwald. It belonged to Albus Dumbledore in his youth."

Harry wasn't sure what the professor was talking about, but his tone seemed to convey that defeating Grindelwald had been quite the feat. He stepped into the store, and was greeted by shelves upon shelves of boxes. A thin, elderly man slowly climbed down from a ladder that leaned against one of the taller shelves.

"Come in, come in..."

The man straightened as he reached the floor. As Harry made eye contact, he felt the same strange sensation in his head as before with Professor Snape. Harry focused on the feeling, but it fled from his grasp. Trying to hold onto it was like trying to hold onto water. The elderly gentleman took a step towards Harry.

"Curious… most curious. I have never seen one as young you with such skill in that particular talent. What might your name be?"

"Harry Potter."

"Of course. It feels like only yesterday your father was here for his own wand. Why don't you step to the middle of the platform there, and we will get started." The old man pulled out a measuring tape, and with a twirl of his wand, sent the tape floating towards Harry. After several measurements, he pulled out metallic four pronged device, which he passed over Harry's chest and head.

"Is everything OK?" Harry felt a bit baffled by Olivander's baffling routine.

"Ah yes, all is well. I am just determining a starting point for which wands may respond well to your frame and magical signature. I'm afraid that although building wands is an art, pairing wand to wizard is more of a guessing game." The man pulled a slender box from a nearby shelf and placed it in front of Harry. "Give this a try."

Harry opened the box, which held a wand fashioned from a knurled piece of wood. He stared at it for a moment. "What should I do with it?"

"Pick it up, and give it a good wave... do you feel any sensation when you touch the wand?"

Harry shook his head – he felt nothing. Nonetheless, he gave the wand a wave, and was shocked when a ripple of air burst from the tip. The ripple collided with an invisible barrier, producing a dull thud.

"Ah no, not quite what we are looking for. Don't mind the ward, it's just there to protect my shop. You would be surprised at some of the magic that comes out of those wands when there is a particularly poor match or a particularly strong young wizard. Don't worry though" the man quickly added, his speech growing quicker as he rambled on. "I have sufficient experience in matching wands that your well-being shouldn't be jeopardized... at least not in any way that can't be fixed by a quick trip to St. Mungo's," Olivander added with a wink.

Harry hastily put the wand back into its box. A couple of minutes later, he was brought another wand - this one from a slightly higher shelf. As soon as he picked it up, he felt an unpleasant heat in his hand. Eager to be rid of the wand, he gave it a half-hearted wave. A torrent of red flame burst out of the tip, colliding with the barrier.

For the next fifteen minutes, Harry tried out a dozens of different wands. Some were unpleasant to hold, others had catastrophic effects when used, and a few only produced a trickle of magic.

"Let's try something a bit more... different," the wand-maker muttered. He climbed up the tall ladder, coming back down with a single dusty box. "I don't expect this to work, but it's worth a try."

Harry took the wand from the box. It had a smooth brown finish, and a pleasant sensation flowed through his arm and into his body. He couldn't help smiling as he waved the wand before him. A shower of golden sparks burst from the tip, each one exploding into a miniature display of lights – much like muggle fireworks.

"Ah yes, that's more like it" the wand-maker smiled. "Very curious though, the phoenix that gave its feather to your wand – and it is your wand now, it has most certainly chosen you – only gave a feather to one other wand. That other wand left it's mark on your forehead." Olivander pointed at the jagged scar with his wrinkled hand. Harry shifted in place - he wasn't used to people commenting on his appearance, and he had always felt a bit conscious about the scar.

"Do not fret though, your wand is destined for greatness. If you are so inclined - and I am sure you are - it can be for great good."

Harry nodded. Ollivander took the wand form Harry and placed it in the box. "Will you be needing anything else today?"

Harry looked up at professor Snape. The man seemed to be deep in thought, and he gave a slight start when he noticed Harry looking at him. He shook his head slightly, and Harry turned back to Olivander. "No, just the wand, sir."

Olivander smiled, and began wrapping the box in plain paper. "Very well, that will be 100 Galleons."

Harry passed his second, untouched pouch to the wand-maker, who counted out the coins before returning the empty sack to Harry. "I must inform you, this wrapping paper is jinxed to deter underage magic. Only an of-age wizard can retrieve your wand for you. On the other hand, you could just wait until you arrive at Hogwarts, and the wrapping will fall off on its own." He passed the box to Harry, who took it with a sigh.

"Don't fret, you will be in Hogwarts before you know it - and you'll get to use your wand more often than you'll like. Now, be sure to clean it on a weekly basis, and do your best to keep it safe. Wands are terribly difficult to repair if they break. That being said, they are also rather sturdy, and your purchase comes with a lifetime warranty, barring negligent behavior." The old man passed the box back to Harry along with a cloth bag. "The bag contains some cleaning supplies. Good luck at Hogwarts, .

"Thank you sir."

Professor Snape beckoned to Harry, and they walked out of the store. Soon after they were out of earshot, Harry spoke up.

"Professor, do you know anything about my parents? A boy I met at Madam Malkin's said they are famous, but my aunt and uncle told me they died in a car accident."

The man stopped walking and turned to face Harry. He was silent for a moment. "Your parents were instrumental in defeating the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who as many call him. They died at his hands, and shortly after he gave you that scar. He meant to kill you, but the killing curse turned on him instead. The singularity of surviving the killing curse, coupled with the vanquishing of the Dark Lord, has made you famous throughout the magical world. Don't expect any special treatment from me though, Potter."

Harry nodded slowly. He was happy to hear that his parents had died for a noble cause rather than the alcohol fueled car accident described by the Dursleys in vivid detail many times before. That still left one question. If he was so famous, then why had he been stuck in relative isolation with the Dursleys for as long as he could remember? He could ask, but judging by the professor's tone, dwelling on this particular topic probably wouldn't ingratiate Harry to him. No, it would probably be for the best if he asked about something else.

"Sir, what talent was Ollivander talking about?"

"I am not entirely sure. As mentioned in the shop, it appears you have a rare skill called occlumency. Usually this skill must be painstakingly learned, but in rare cases it is innate. It means you can protect your mind from intrusion. Needless to say, this is a most unusual manifestation of magic."

Harry thought about what Snape had said. It was all very confusing, but he didn't really want random people inside his head, so he saw no reason to complain. The man cast the tempus charm once again.

"We have stayed here long enough, it is time for you to go back to Privett Drive and for me to return to Hogwarts. I suppose you haven't heard about apparition before?" the man questioned with a smirk.

Harry shook his head, a question on the tip of his lips before he was cut off by the professor. "No matter, I've been told children love surprises." He grasped Harry by the shoulder, and all sound and color disappeared. Harry felt like he was being squeezed into a pinpoint, and as suddenly as Diagon Alley had disappeared, Privet Drive came into view around him. His knees gave out from underneath him, but the professor's grip kept him from falling.

"Portkey, floo, and now apparition. Today has been quite the adventure for you. Before I go, remember that the train to Hogwarts departs from platform nine and three-quarters a week from today. To enter the platform, you must walk through the wall between platforms nine and platform ten."

"But that's... impossible?"

The man bent down to eye level. "No, it's magic."

With that, Snape disappeared with a pop. Harry wanted to ask if he would need to cast a spell, but the man was already gone. He would have to figure it out at the train station. With that, he entered the house. As always, his aunt and uncle didn't even notice as he walked past the couch. Harry barely made it to his room before he dived onto his bed and cracked open one of the books he had purchased from Flourish and Bott's. Magic was real, and he wanted to learn everything he could about it.

The next couple of weeks were the best Harry could remember. He pored over his new schoolbooks, all of them interesting in their own way. He was entranced by the moving pictures in A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration – it seemed even the books themselves were magical. The potions in Magical Drafts and Potions were reminiscent of the cooking shows he had watched on the telly, with one major departure. The ingredients were extremely exotic, and many of them seemed like they would be difficult to acquire. He wasn't sure what a newt was, let alone where to find one. Nonetheless, he skimmed through the book with some interest. A History of Magic wasn't quite up to par with the other books, but Harry read a section about one of the Goblin rebellions. He was curious to learn more about the creatures after having run into them at Gringotts. The text didn't paint them in a very good light. In fact, compared to History of Magic, Snape had made them sound positively delightful.

In addition to the books, he had several visits from various couriers. It was startling each time one of them rang his doorbell. The wizards dropped off the various purchases that he had made at Diagon Alley. Harry stowed the cauldrons, stationary, and scales in his new trunk. He had read about shrinking trunks in his transfiguration book, but they were apparently extremely expensive. The robe fit him quite nicely, unlike Dudley's hand-me-downs. There was a patch over the right side of the chest that bore a Hogwarts emblem. According to what Madam Malkin had mentioned, it would change to a house specific emblem as soon as he was sorted at Hogwarts. She hadn't said what the sorting would entail, but Harry was excited to find out.

The rule against underage magic did make waiting difficult at times. Professor Snape had explained to him that using his wand outside of Hogwarts would have severe consequences with the ministry. Moreover, the man had promised to confiscate his wand during each subsequent school break if Harry wasn't able to control himself on his own. The boy wasn't eager to test Snape, much less the jinx that had been placed on the wrapping paper, so he stowed his wand in his trunk and did his best no to think about it. He was itching to try the different spells he read about in his books, but the risk wasn't worth it.

Altogether, the days passed by quickly. However, there was one problem that Harry had to solve. He had to get to Hogwarts. His aunt and uncle were not an option, and talking to a neighbor or a cab driver about a magical train would probably just get him laughed at. Instead, he asked one of the couriers about the different forms of magical transportation, making sure to give him a Galleon as a tip. The amused wizard had rattled off a proper list of methods. There was apparition, floo, and portkey – all three of which were currently inaccessible to Harry. There was also broom riding – usually reserved for sport, and magical carpets – both equally useless given the circumstances. Of the other options the man had mentioned, the Knight Bus seemed like the best one. Apparently, all he had to do was call for it, and it would show up.

When the day came to depart for the train station, Harry dragged his trunk down the stairs and to the curb outside Privet drive. His uncle was at work, and his aunt was with Dudley at a dentist's appointment, so he didn't need to say any goodbyes. Not that they would hear them. Harry inhaled deeply. He didn't want to botch the enunciation like he had with the floo.

"Knight Bus!"

After a few minutes of standing at the curb awkwardly, he was relieved to see a purple triple-decker bus come careening around the corner of the street. He climbed aboard, and gave a galleon to the man at the wheel, receiving a few sickles in return. Harry was relieved that the man didn't ask any questions, although the shrunken head hanging from the rearview mirror kept up a stream of steady chatter. Ignoring the absurdity of the situation, Harry took a seat near the front, reluctant to drag his trunk any further than was necessary. At first he tried looking out the window, but he quickly grew nauseous as cars and buildings hurtled by at an unnatural speed. Eventually, he settled for cracking open his defense textbook.

Harry didn't get very far as it took only about fifteen minutes to make it to the train station – a feat that should have been impossible. Fortunately, his experiences over the past week had persuaded him to cease trying to explain how magic worked. Instead, he opened his mind and tried to soak up as much of the new world as he could. As he got off the bus, he realized that none of the muggles had noticed its arrival. He filed this information in the back of his head – it seemed familiar for some reason, but he couldn't remember what it reminded him of. He asked a station employee about the location of platform nine and three quarters. The woman laughed at first, and then asked Harry where his parents were. He realized he wouldn't be getting any help there, so he did his best to navigate his way to platform nine. If nine and three quarters existed, it would probably be somewhere around there.

Harry had budgeted more time for the knight bus, and it was still around 9:30 AM when he arrived at platform nine. The train was due to depart at 11:00 AM, so he walked over to a café within view of the station and bought himself a sandwich with some of the meager muggle currency he had stashed over the years. As he ate, he kept an eye on platform nine. His anxiety grew as the clock chimed 10:00 AM, but soon after children began to arrive at the station with their parents, most of them carrying trunks like his own. Family after family walked straight into the barrier between platforms nine and ten before disappearing. Harry got up from his table at the café and walked towards the platform.

As he drew nearer, a man faded into view. He wore wizard's clothing, so Harry felt slightly reassured.

"Hello lad, looking for the Hogwarts express?"

Harry nodded mutely. After years of isolation, he was still nervous around strangers.

"Just step through the wall on my left."

Harry reached out to touch the wall. Between platforms nine and ten. Amazingly, his hand went right through. Grinning, Harry grabbed his luggage and walked through the wall.

The other side consisted of a platform crowded with people. There were families, students, and even various small animals. To his relief, Harry saw Neville standing off to the side. The tall boy was with a sharply dressed elderly woman wearing an extravagant hat, and Harry had seen some strange hats at Diagon Alley.

"Hello Neville" Harry shouted, waving to the boy as he made his way towards him. The lady gave Neville a pointed look, and the boy said something to her, his voice muffled by the din of the train station.

"Hello Harry, it is good to see you again. This is my grandmother, Lady Longbottom. Gran, this is Harry Potter."

Harry turned to the woman. "It's nice to meet you, Lady Longbottom."

"Likewise. My son and your father were good friends, so it is nice to see that you are already acquainted with my grandson."

Harry smiled, shifting in place. He would have to ask Neville more about their parents later. The lady turned to Neville, and gave him a hug before stepping away. "Best of luck at Hogwarts, gentlemen." With that, she apparated away.

"Do you know anybody here?" Harry asked.

"No, I spend most of my time at home with grandma. Most of the people I know are her friends, and they don't really have any children my age. I think she was very happy to see that you and I had already met."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows – she had seemed aloft and expressionless, like if Snape was a woman. Harry shuddered at the thought. Neville certainly knew her better than he did, so perhaps Harry's initial impression had been unfounded.

"I'm happy to hear that. Should we board the train ?"

The other boy nodded, and they made their way up an inclined ramp. Dark wooden panels linked the interior of the train, with silver chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The compartments were split into little rooms that looked like they could comfortable sit a handful of people. Some of these compartments were already occupied, but many more were empty. The two boys made their way down the train, unsure where to sit. Eventually, they gave up and picked an empty compartment at random. Two cushioned benches flanked the center of the compartment, with a large oval window occupying most of the outer panel of the train. Harry pushed his trunk underneath one of the benches and took a seat. Neville did likewise on the opposite bench. They sat in silence for a couple of moments before Harry spoke up.

"Your grandmother mentioned our parents were friends?"

"Yes, our parents were friends at Hogwarts, and they all fought against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry nodded slowly. "I keep hearing a lot about this nameless guy – Olivander said he was the one that gave me my scar. Do you know anything more about him?"

Neville looked uneasy, but after a moment he answered "My grandmother doesn't like to talk about him. He was the one that ordered the attack on my parents – they live in St Mungo's now." In an instant, the boy's expression changed form a frown into a scowl. "I hate him. If he wasn't dead – I – I would try to kill him myself."

Harry felt bad for asking. He hadn't known Neville for very long, but this was the first time he had seen the boy express anything even remotely resembling anger. Harry didn't remember his parents, so he didn't feel anything when it came to the dark lord beyond a detached dislike. However, if the man could illicit such a reaction in Neville, then Harry would hate him too.

"Let's not talk about that guy – I'm sorry I brought it up. Are you excited about Hogwarts?"

The boy across from him instantly brightened. "Oh yes! I can't wait to make new friends and learn more about magic. My grandmother says I have big shoes to fill if I want to be like my parents. She also says I need to be more independent. I think that's why she was so quick to leave us earlier."

Harry found himself agreeing with the boy's grandmother. He himself was fairly independent – but that was only because he couldn't rely on the Dursleys for years now and practically had to take care of himself. His friend however seemed to be deeply attached to Lady Longbottom. It was always grandmother this or grandmother that.

"What class are you most looking forward to?"

"Oh, it would have to be Herbology. I have a garden at home with several different rare plants. I can't wait to see what they have at the Hogwarts greenhouses – they've been growing their collection for centuries. I want to be a healer when I grow up, and herbology is very important for that" The boy paused to take a breath. "What about you, what are you looking forward to?"

Harry wasn't sure what most excited him – he wanted to learn everything! And so, he talked about what he had read of transfiguration, potions, and defense. Neville answered with his own recollections of having seen transfigurations at Longbottom manor, and of the potions he had drank when he had broken his arm a couple of years ago. They spoke back and forth for what seemed like hours, only pausing when a lady stopped by their compartment with a snack cart. Harry spent a couple of sickles on a chocolate frog, only to have it hop out of the packaging. He and Neville chased it around the compartment for a few minutes before it slowed down sufficiently to be captured. Harry guessed that there was only enough magic in the frog to keep it going for a limited amount of time. He took a bite of the frog while Neville snacked on magical jellybeans, his face alternating between smiles and grimaces witch each subsequent bean.

"Ugh, burnt bread. Do you want to try one – I think I'm done for today." Harry took a bean from his friend, pleasantly surprised by the flavor.

"Strawberry Jam"

"Lucky" the other boy murmured. His reluctance seemed to dissipate, and he ate another bean. The two boys took turns finishing off the rest of the bag in a sort of game. Harry seemed to be the winner, having stumbled on more tasty-beans than Neville. Before they knew it, the train stopped. A voice echoed through the train – it sounded like it belonged to an older teenager.

"Listen up everybody, we will be departing in ten minutes. If you haven't already put on your robes, please do so now. Once you are finished, please leave your luggage in your compartment and walk to the front of the train to await further instruction from one of us prefects. You should be able to recognize us by the badge pinned on our robes. If a pair of red haired twins tell you they are prefects, do NOT believe them."

Harry and Neville changed into their robes, and stepped out into the corridor. A couple of minutes later, they were at the front of the train. True to their word, a group of older students with badges were waiting for them there along with the rest of the Hogwarts students, many of whom were talking to each other in a cacophony of sound.

"All right everybody, let's move out!" an older student with a head boy badge shouted over the din. They followed behind as the group filed out of the train. The tracks were flanked by tall trees on both sides; the dark sky above them littered with bright stars.

"Firs' years, Firs' years over here" a deep voice boomed. Harry turned to look for the source, and found a huge man standing by the train. He had to be twice as tall as Vernon, and just as wide – although most of this man's girth was around the shoulders rather than the waist. The man carried a huge lamp that bathed the area in a soft blue light.

Harry and Neville joined the growing group of first years. The giant man took a few minutes to count the students, and then spoke once again.

"Alrigh' then, my name's Hagrid. I am the groundskeeper of Hogwarts" the man gave the students a big smile. He reminded Harry of a children's book he had read about a friendly giant. "I will be takin' the lot of ya' up to the castle." The man scratched his beard. "I think tha's everything – follow me please."

Hagrid turned away from the train, and the group followed behind him. Harry had to walk at a quick pace – he wasn't sure if it was because Hagrid took large steps, because everybody was excited to see Hogwarts, or because nobody wanted to get stranded by the woods in the dark. They soon reached a wide stream, and boarded the small rowing boats that were lined along the bank. Harry was relieved to see that the boats rowed themselves, leaving him free to look around. Soon, the stream merged into a large black lake and they left the woods behind. A huge castle loomed over the hill above them, its walls and towers outlined by pinpricks of light.

This was it! Hogwarts was within reach!