Disclaimer: The only time I'm the proud owner of Harry Potter is at night when I'm dreaming.

Warnings: dump people, bad language, Satan/Lucifer related comments, mentions of homosexuality and many prejudices.

Please note that the content of the fanfiction is purely fiction and does not represent the authors own opinion.

4. Chapter Four

The next hours had been interesting.

You could say so, at least.

The snake had escaped and nibbled at some children on her way out of the zoo to examine the quality of the attendant prey before it decided against them in favour of a yummy looking bicycle.

Harry had endured being shouted at from the mountain – who knew that a mountain could be so loud? - and silently made an oath to practise his death glare more in his free time in his cupboard. Who knew what else he could possibly achieve?

But then the latest proceedings had demanded his attention, because his relatives dropped him at a highway rest area without a thing. He had neither his clothes, nor money to buy something to eat.

Well, shit! He thought. That could get rather uncomfortable.

The sunny side of the whole situation was that he was alone. No Petunia, no Vernon and no Dudley. Life had never been better in Harry's opinion. If he forgot some minor problems just one tiny moment he could fully enjoy this opportunity, before he couldn't ignore his other needs any longer. But until then he was content to sit here in his blissful oblivion.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long. A fat and hairy men – wait, could you even describe this being as a man? – picked him up and went with him to London. When he asked for the reason the giant – a rather fitting description - looked utterly confused.

"For shopping of course."

Of course, shopping. Why hadn't he thought of that?

Wait, did you catch his sarcasm?

Add to the list that they stood in front of a shabby looking pub that didn't help to establish some desperate needed trust in him. Yes, okay, they were wizards and had another culture, but surely it couldn't be that bad?

"So, we're going inside I would say."

Hagrid accomplished to open the door without destroying the handle and Harry followed him cautiously inside, inwardly prepared to jump out again at the tiniest sign of danger.

The only sign of danger was the air. It was as dusty and old as the air in his cupboard and that meant something. Hagrid started coughing in a terrible manner. It also smelled not so nice. Or maybe he smelled just Hagrid, now that they were in a cramped place.

"Hey Hagrid, the usual?"

Harry sighted a man behind the counter of the bar and identified him successfully as the speaker. The man knew this ugly giant? Better stay away from him too then.

"Oh no, Tom," Hagrid shouted through the whole pub. "I have to go shopping today. With Harry Potter!"

The giant turned to him and laid one of his big hands on his shoulder. Harry prayed for dear life to every god he knew for someone to suddenly appear and rescue him. These hands were heavy and his knees begun to buckle under him. Please, anybody would do!

He prayed to Satan.

"Dude, Harry Potter," Tom detected ingeniously.

Whispers spread around the pub. Harry heard his jumping from mouth to mouth like a wildfire. He wondered what the cause was. Maybe praying to Lucifer hadn't been his best idea.

Hopefully, his reputation wasn't crushed because of the giant as his companion. That would be rather unfortunate.

And then it started. A real nightmare. Not that he had had any of this sort before, but he would bet all his money that he would have them in the future. All this people who tried to touch him and eyed him as if he was an animal in the zoo.

Note to self: Pray never again to Lucy!

"Harry Potter, I'm your biggest fan." A woman with a weird hat shook his hand.

The next needed a moment to form a sentence.

"Err, I've seen you in the radio." Okay, she could have saved the effort.

"Harry P-P-P-P-P… P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P-P…"

In front of him stood a creepy wizard dressed in something undefinable. The only thing he could safely say about it was that it was purple. Completely purple.

Maybe wizards suffered from a lack of brains cells?

Hmm when he thought about it:

Inability to form sentences with a correct content – check.

Inability two say a name – check.

Conclusion: Positive! They really lack in that area.

Maybe Hagrid wasn't so bad after all. He looked at the giant's hairy face seeking help – the giant was now definitely rated the lesser evil - as the Purple Man continued with his stuttering. 'Perhaps he'll choke to death?', Harry thought hopefully.

Wait, was he supposed to do something?

Hagrid mysteriously understood his questioning glance and proceeded to give him some information. Really, he swore to god – definitely not to Satan, sorry Lucy – he would never again question the giants' intelligence.

"Oh, that is Quirrel. He can't talk correctly."

Hagrid seemed quite happy about the others misfortune as he laughed openly.

Either it was lack of intelligence that his behaviour was impolite or he didn't care or he was a sadist. Harry didn't know, though. Better not to wrack his brain over it.

"Err yes, hello." He held out his hand for the Purple Man to shake it coming to the conclusion that that was what he wanted, because everyone else had wanted it too.

"Hmpf, eh, P, P-P-P, eh…"

Harry was at a loss at how he was supposed to deal with a man who couldn't talk to say what he wanted and further didn't want what everyone else wanted as he refrained from shaking his hand. Why wouldn't he touch him? How should he know what the Purple Man wanted? Especially if the damn man went on with this creepy sounds he emitted.

Was he only surrounded by idiots?

Hagrid decided at this moment to take over.

"So, I have to move on now. With my best friend Harry Potter."

The giant puffed out his chest, clearly proud of the fact that he was friends with an eleven years old boy.

Hagrid had definitely some problems.

Delusions perhaps? Or an inferiority complex? Harry couldn't know. And it shouldn't be his problem or responsibility to begin with.

He was bloody eleven years old.

Hagrid had an umbrella.

And the umbrella opened some magical wall so that they could reach Diagon Alley. The giant was ostensibly in a good mood.

Harry, too.

He would get new things. Who would protest?

"And now, Harry, we'll go shopping!"

A silly smile spread over his face. Yeah, shopping…

After a while they had gotten most of the things from the list. Harry checked it again. Just one item left, a wand. That would be interesting. He approached Hagrid who carried all his bags for him and hid his smirk at the sight.

"Where do I get a wand?"

"Ah, err there, you see? By Olivander."

Another shabby looking shop.

Joy.

A short happy tune sounded through the shop to announce the new customer. Dust flew through the air and the room was just dimly lit, throwing shadows on its long shelves full of boxes. Harry was glad that Hagrid wasn't with him. Nevertheless, he would have had the image of the bull in a china shop burned-in in his mind for eternity.

"Hello," he greeted the vacant room unmotivated. Where the hell was the owner? Pun unintended, he added as afterthought in case Lucy listened in.

Silence.

"Hello?" Honestly, this shop gave him the creeps. Time to scrape up some courage.

"Hello? I want to buy a wand."

He heard a sound and shot around to be presented with the furrowed face of an old man with white hair. The man appeared to be amused.

"Obviously, since you can't purchase anything else here." Oldie smirked.

Harry was dumbfounded. A wizard able to use his brain cells.

Wonders never ceased to exist.

The wizard stared at him intently, all the while muttering to himself. Harry shifted uncomfortable.

What the hell was going on? Then the wizard vanished behind a shelf without a word and he was alone again. Not for long.

"Here, Mr Potter. Just take it and give it a try."

Firstly, how the hell – Lucy should better restrain himself from getting a too big head - did the man know his name? Although, the visitors in the pub had known him as well so perhaps he shouldn't question it.

Secondly, what was he supposed to do? Could someone please just come along and give him an instruction booklet? Something like "How to navigate through magical encounters without losing your intelligence." THAT would be great.

Thirdly… forget it, there was no third.

He closed his hand around the wand and a warm feeling swept through his bones until his whole body felt accepted and connected to this straight, small stick in his hand.

Weird.

"Dude, I take it. I want it. How much?"

"Hmm, pay attention scarhead, I make you an offer. Seven galleons and it is yours. And you'll get an added wand-sock in green or pink for free! You can put your wand in there, so that it doesn't get scratches and it stays comfortable warm."

Harry was sceptical.

"Who needs a warm wand?" Another wizard custom?

"Ohhhh," Olivander exclaimed with a creepy glint in his eyes, "these people are called faggots. I thought you were one."

Oh hell!

AN: Hey guys! Care to let me know how you find it? I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lucy sort of got a guest appearance, but I can't help it as SPN fan.