A/N: Well, a lot is happening in this chapter. Sorry about that, I just wanted to get Harry's entire shopping trip into this chapter. So we will see the second part of Gringotts, meet Draco, meet Hedwig, and get his wand. Yeah, I kind of gave everything away, but as this is Harry Potter (Jameson) everything is much more complicated.

Oh, and I never remember to put in a disclaimer, so…DISCLAIMER! ALL CHARACTERS (except Leanne) BELONG TO J.K. ROWLING!

Chapter 4

"Potter? Harry Potter?" Mrs. Figg cried in shock. "How is this possible?"

After seeing the results of the hereditary potion, Griphook convinced Harry that he had to wait outside while he spoke to Mrs. Figg about her account while they waited to find a possible match to the names.

The elderly Goblin sighed. "I have no idea, Ma'am. But he really is Harry Potter."

Arabella was mortified. While the child didn't know it, she had unintentionally mocked the poor boy's family. The family that was still alive.

"The main issue," Griphook continued breaking through the squibs daze. "Is that for some reason, Dumbledore decided to make the world think he was dead. What do we tell him?"

Mrs. Figg sighed. "You're right. We can't tell him who he really is. So do we tell him that he is Muggle-born, or that his parents didn't leave him any money? I suppose we can just fill out a form for a scholarship and tell him that his parents left just enough to cover his first year expenses."

The Goblin thought silently for several moments. "Or," he stated slowly. "We could give him some money from his own vault." Looking at the expression on the woman's face, Griphook rushed to continue. "I have a plan. Just let me do all the talking."

"Mr. Jameson," the Goblin said as Harry took a seat beside Mrs. Figg. "According to our records your mother, Violet, was a British Muggle-born. She then married an American half-blood by the name of Charles Jameson. At the time of their death their vault, which is now yours, contained a total of five thousand Galleons, four hundred sickles, and five hundred knuts."

Griphook got the totals from the documents regarding what was in the vault reserved for Harry Potter the day he was born. James Potter never had the heart to move the money back into his own account and couldn't even bring himself to check the amount. Chances were great that the boys true identity would be revealed long before Potter got around to his "late" son's account.

Harry gawked as the old Goblin withdrew a small pouch and waved his long fingers over it. "This pouch will connect you directly to your vault." Griphook explained as he levitated the bag to the boy. "I have placed charms on it so that you and only you can open it. The charms will activate as soon as you touch it."

Amazed, Harry snatched the bag and yanked it opened. The boy then frowned in confusion. "But, sir, it's empty."

To the humans shock, Griphook laughed somewhat kindly. "You simply think about what you need. The price of a textbook for example."

Harry nodded and placed the pouch in his pocket. He would by a chain later so he could wear it around his neck. "Thank you very much, Mr. Griphook," the child piped as he reached out to shake the Goblins hand like he had seen people do after making business deals on television. Griphook was caught off guard but shrugged and shook the boy's hand.

Mrs. Figg led Harry to Madam Malkin's shop to buy his robes while she went to the creature shop next door to pick up some cat food. Years ago the old woman had explained that most of her cats were actually a magical breed known as kneazles. At least half of them were some form of mix between the magical cat and domestic Muggle cats. Mrs. Figg thinks that Holly herself has a very small amount of kneazle in her and despite their rough start, Arabella thinks she is Harry's bonded familiar (which only occur between magical people and magical animals. Certain bonds, like those between a kneazle and a wizard only happen when the child shows magic and the animal is 6 months old.)

So as Mrs. Figg went to buy her kneazle diet cat food, Harry went into the shop by himself. One of the women in the shop smiled at him and lead him to the back where another boy was being fitted. The other boy had blonde hair and pale eyes and skin, but he looked at Harry with mild interest and said hello.

Shyly, Harry smiled at the boy and listened as he rambled about how his parents were doing most of his shopping for him. For the second time that day, Harry was reminded of Dudley. The dark haired boy found himself thinking that if every child in the wizarding world was like Dudley, he would be better off in the Muggle world, right?

Meanwhile, the blonde boy frowned and studied Harry as if something suddenly occurred to him. "Your parents are wizards, right?" He drawled, causing Harry to tense up.

"Yes. My mother was Muggle born and my father was an American half blood."

The other boy raised an eyebrow. "Was?"

The black haired boy found himself glaring at the blonde. Apparently the phrase 'dumb blonde' doesn't just apply in the Muggle world. "My parents died in a car accident when I was a year old. I was in the car with them; this scar on my forehead is from when the glass shattered on impact."

"Oh," the other boy muttered, before regaining his pureblood composure. "What's your name anyway?"

Harry shook his head, hating the pale boy more by the minute. "Harry Jameson. Who are you?"

Slightly put out, the blonde replied, "Draco Malfoy."

Harry made a face that clearly suggested that he was trying not to laugh and Draco felt his face heat up for some reason. Why would he, the Malfoy heir, be embarrassed by his own name in front of some scruffy looking runt like Jameson? Suddenly, Harry turned to the window and beamed. Following the other boy's glance, Draco saw an old woman with a bag from the creature shop next door. "Who's that?"

Harry turned back to the boy. "Oh, that's my neighbor, Mrs. Figg. I live with my Muggle aunt and uncle, who've always hated magic. Mrs. Figg is a squib and told me all about magic when I was five and turned one of her kneazle kittens blue."

Normally, Draco would have said something nasty about squibs but something stopped him. Maybe it was because his father wasn't there to encourage the behavior, or maybe because he finally had a chance to make his own friend instead of settling for the children of his father's friends. Whatever the reason, Draco found himself continuing to make idle conversation with the smaller boy about Houses and Quidditch until Harry finished and left with his robes.

Harry told Mrs. Figg about the pale boy in the shop as they gathered his books and potions ingredients and supplies. After a couple hours, the two had everything but the child's wand and had stopped to get ice cream. "Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked from behind his large cone of butterbeer ice cream. "Why didn't you come into Madam Malkins?"

The old woman shook her head in exasperation. "That woman takes her 'no food' rule too far. Honestly, it's cat food in a spelled 'no spill' bag. I could tear it opened and hold it upside down over my head and nothing would fall out!"

The child laughed as he finished his ice cream and washed his face. He would have to brush his teeth when he got to Mrs. Figg's house, as Dudley can smell any form of sweet from a block away, especially if it were on Harry's breathe.

Leaving the bathroom, Harry was led to Eeylops Owl Emporium. "But, Mrs. Figg?" He muttered nervously. "I-I thought you were letting me bring Holly to Hogwarts?"

Mrs. Figg smiled at the child. "Of course you are taking Holly with you. She is your bonded familiar after all. I'm just buying us an owl to share. How else will we write to each other?"

Beaming, Harry followed her into the shop where his eyes fell on a beautiful white owl. Arabella was shocked by the unexpected bond that formed clearly when the boy touched the owl through the cage. It is extremely rare to bond with more than one animal, in the past, only very powerful wizards bonded with multiple animals at once. The old woman turned to the owner and quietly asked if the owl was magical, as bonds can only form between magical people and magical animals. The middle aged man nodded with a smile. "Yes, ma'am! Clearly that was no static shock."

Slightly shaken, Mrs. Figg turned to Harry and asked if he would like the owl, already reaching for her money bag to pay.

Their last stop was Ollivander's Wand Shop. Harry was practically shaking with excitement; after all, he has wanted a wand since the day he turned Holly blue. Mrs. Figg herself was shaken. The moment she was told who the sweet little orphan really was she has dreaded entering the old man's shop. Even as a squib she had heard rumors about the old wand maker being a Seer. While she didn't know how true these rumors were, Arabella knew that if anyone knew who this child really was, it would be Ollivander.

The charm on the door alerted the old wizard that he had new customers. Beaming, he slid his ladder across the shelves of wands to great his customer and hopefully sell one of his beloved wands to their hopefully permanent owners. Despite his carefully rehearsed entrance he still nearly fell off the ladder. There in his shop stood a squib and a young boy who was reported dead 10 years ago. I know the Prophet isn't the most accurate news source, but if they get anything correct, it is the deaths of innocent children. He thought shaking his head to clear it.

Discreetly turning to the woman, Ollivander knew that the poor child had no idea of who he really was. The old man's smile became a bit more forced as he greeted the boy and set his tape measure to work. While the boy was being measured, the wand maker raced to the back and pulled out the wand he had set aside for the girl-who-lived, holly and phoenix feather.

After grabbing another four wands, Ollivander returned to the frone of the shop to find Harry and Mrs. Figg gawking at the tape measure, which was now measuring the distance between the boy's nostrils. "That's enough you old piece of rubbish… not you ma'am!" the old man added hastily at the woman's scowl. "Sorry, the Seer in me is rather superstitious; I've used that tape measure since making my first wand. It's taken to measuring more than it should; goes much lower than the nose if catch my drift. Anyway, something in me keeps stopping me from tossing it."

The two looked at the nervously rambling old man. Worried that he would give away the secret, Arabella snapped "Can't we just try the wands for Harry?"

Ollivander blushed. "Yes… yes of course! Now, eyeing you up child I have selected a few choice wands. Again, the measurements are mostly a formality. I don't often refer to them unless there is an issue."

Harry was very uncomfortable as he took the offered wand and wasn't helped by the explosion of the jar behind the strange old man. The second wand caused half the wands on one of the shelves to go flying, the third split Mrs. Figg's shopping bag with the cat food, causing the elderly woman to frantically hop around to avoid the heavy bags of food.

After the child stopped laughing at his friends expense, he hesitantly took the fourth wand (the holly and phoenix feather one.) The second he wrapped his fingers around it, Harry felt a warm feeling going through his body as red and gold light shot out the tip of the wand. As the boy paid for his wand and Mrs. Figg struggled to gather the dropped cat food into another light weight bag, Ollivander nodded mysteriously to himself. "Well, Mr. Jameson," the old man said carefully. "You have great power and greater potential. Best of luck."

Arabella nodded quickly and pulled a curious Harry out of the shop.

A/N: Well, there you go. Chapter 4. Up next is the Hogwarts Express, where Harry will make some more friends and learn more about the children of the wizarding world before his sorting. I have already planned on him being in Gryffindor along with his original dorm mates (the ones from the books.) I am almost positive Hermione will also be a lion. Any other suggestions will be appreciated, but I am currently drafting and don't know if said suggestions will make it.

Anyway, let me know what you think.