Thanks to the seventeen of you who've followed the story so far, and the seven of you who favourited!

Disclaimer – I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter 2 – Diagon Alley

Iris awoke the following morning to a loud tapping noise. No doubt it was Aunt Petunia rapping on her cupboard door, waking her up to cook breakfast at usual. But then, all at once, the events of the previous night came rushing back to Iris. Excitement coursed through her body and she immediately sat up, throwing off Hagrid's coat, to find that the tapping noise was coming from a window where there appeared to be an owl desperate to get in.

Iris walked over and opened the window. The owl flew in and dropped a newspaper on top of Hagrid before landing by his coat and pecking at the pockets as though looking for something.

"Hagrid!" said Iris loudly, "There's an owl pecking at–"

"Pay him," grunted Hagrid.

"What?"

Hagrid explained where to find his money and Iris gave the owl five little bronze coins (Knuts) via a leather pouch attached to its leg. The owl flew off just as Hagrid sat up and stretched.

"Best be off, Iris, lots ter do today, gotta get up to London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

After a quick but delicious breakfast of cold sausages and birthday cake, Hagrid led Iris outside to the boat which her and the Dursleys had rowed to the rock on. Last night's storm had blown over and it was a pretty calm morning.

"How did you get here?" Iris asked, not seeing any other boats.

"Flew," said Hagrid, as though that explained everything, "but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

Iris agreed immediately and climbed in the boat. She wished she could be there to see the look on the Dursleys' faces when they realised the boat was gone and they were stuck on the rock.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Iris a sideways look. "If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Iris eagerly. Hagrid tapped the side of the boat with his pink umbrella and it began moving swiftly towards land.

Iris enjoyed the sea breeze on her face and the freedom she felt as they left the Dursleys behind on the rock, and in her past. Meanwhile, Hagrid was reading the newspaper the owl had dropped off.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," he muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Iris asked, half expecting one of Uncle Vernon's classic 'don't ask questions' responses.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if there ever was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

Iris wondered why on earth the Minister of Magic would be begging a school headmaster for advice, but chose to ask another question.

"What does the Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?" asked Iris, confused.

"Why? Blimey, Iris, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

Iris thought there must be more to the issue than that. She wondered what would happen if the witches and wizards all revealed themselves to the Muggles. Judging from the Dursleys, it would not go well.

Two hours and several uncomfortable train journeys later (Hagrid attracted a lot of attention), they were walking down the streets of London. Iris had read through her equipment and reading lists for Hogwarts whilst on the train, and she didn't have a clue where they were going to find any of it, but Hagrid seemed to know where he was going.

Eventually, Hagrid came to a halt. "This is it, the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

The 'famous place' he was referring to was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. It seemed to be the least eye-catching place on the whole street – literally. As people walked by on either side of them, Iris noticed their eyes seemed to slide straight from the bookshop on one side to the record shop on the other. She realised it must be invisible to Muggles.

Hagrid led them inside and Iris immediately crinkled her nose. The place was very dark and shabby and smelled of pipe smoke. Was this really all the wizarding world had to offer? Forced to hide away from Muggles in smelly and dingy pubs?

The bald barman reached for a glass as they approached and asked, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping a hand on Iris' shoulder.

"Good Lord," said Tom the barman, looking closely at Iris, "is this – can this be –?"

The whole of the Leaky Cauldron was now silent.

"Bless my soul," he whispered. "Iris Potter … what an honour."

He hurried out from behind the bar and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back."

Iris was completely perplexed; she had absolutely no idea how to respond. Before she even got the chance, everyone in the bar approached and surrounded her.

"Doris Crockford, Miss Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Miss Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Delighted, Miss Potter, just can't tell you. Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"Did you bow to me once in a shop?" asked Iris, eyeing him up.

"She remembers!" he cried, looking around at everyone else. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!"

It felt like every person in the pub had shaken her hand at least twice before she saw an opening to get away. Unfortunately, that opening was quickly filled with a pale young man who looked very nervous.

"Professor Quirrell!" greeted Hagrid. "Iris, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, shaking Iris' hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

Iris shook his hand but stayed quiet.

"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the thought of it.

Thankfully, she was saved from having to reply by yet another stranger wanting to shake her hand. After another few minutes of effectively being passed around, Hagrid finally made himself heard over the crowd and led Iris out to a small courtyard behind the pub.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"What's with him?" asked Iris.

"Poor bloke," said Hagrid sadly. "Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience … They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject – now, where's my umbrella?"

After finding it, Hagrid tapped a brick three times and before their eyes, a solid brick wall transformed into a giant archway, which marked the entrance to the most amazing street Iris had ever seen.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned as Iris eagerly followed him down the cobbled streets and looked back in forth in wonder. There were magical shops of every variety, selling things such as cauldrons, spell books, owls and broomsticks. There were also lots of witches and wizards shopping, most of them wearing long robes. Thankfully, none of them had approached Iris like those in the Leaky Cauldron yet. At that thought, she moved more into Hagrid's shadow – she wasn't exactly inconspicuous with her dark red hair and lightning-shaped scar on her forehead.

She had been about to ask Hagrid where they were going when she spotted a tall white building with bronze doors, towering over the other shops. The weirdest thing about it though was who was stood just outside in a red and gold uniform. It seemed to be a very small man, with abnormally long fingers and feet, as well as a pointed face and beard.

"That's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly. "They run the only wizarding bank there is, Gringotts. Safest place in the world, 'cept perhaps Hogwarts. Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it."

The goblin bowed as they entered through the bronze doors, only to be faced with a set of silver doors with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Iris couldn't help but agree with Hagrid's assessment that you'd have to be mad to try and rob Gringotts.

Once they were through those doors too, they reached a grand room filled with about a hundred more goblins, as well as many coins and precious stones. Iris wondered how on earth the goblins had managed to gain control of the only wizarding bank. It seemed a little strange – if they so decided, couldn't they just cause an economic crisis for all of the witches and wizards.

While Iris was deep in thought over it, Hagrid had been conversing with a goblin behind a counter.

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen.

"Very well," said the goblin, after reading through the letter Hagrid had handed him. "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Iris and Hagrid followed the goblin named Griphook through a stone passageway and into a small cart on some railway tracks. The next few minutes were spent hurtling along at top speed down various tunnels, until the cart finally came to a stop beside a small door. Iris jumped out, having found the journey pretty thrilling, however Hagrid looked as though he might be sick.

Griphook opened the door and Iris was stunned to see that inside there were stacks upon stacks of gold, silver and bronze coins.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

Iris couldn't believe it. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia often complained about how expensive she was to keep, but little did they know that Iris was richer than the both of them combined. She imagined the greedy look in Uncle Vernon's eyes if he were to ever see the contents of her vault and she immediately swore to herself that he'd never get his chubby hands on a single one of her coins.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Hagrid explained as he helped Iris pile some into a bag. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

The following cart journey was even more thrilling than the last, with the cart gathering speed as the tracks sloped steeper downwards – they even sped over an underground ravine.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole and was instead opened by Griphook stroking the door with one of his long fingers.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," he said.

Expecting fabulous jewels or ancient artefacts, Iris was disappointed to see just a single small grubby package was inside. Hagrid scooped it up and placed it in one of his many pockets.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

-o0o-

After the equally wild cart ride back to the surface, Hagrid decided he needed a 'pick-me-up' in the Leaky Cauldron, so Iris left for Madam Malkin's robe shop alone. Upon entering, she told Madam Malkin she was there for Hogwarts robes, then was led through to the back of the shop, where a boy with a pale face and slicked-back platinum blonde hair was already sitting.

"Hullo," he said, "Hogwarts too?"

"Yep," said Iris.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy in a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The way the boy spoke, he reminded Iris of a better-looking, less well-fed Dudley. Then again, she had only just met him, and he hardly looked as though he'd just been beating up someone half his age, as Dudley often did.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy asked.

"I haven't really got my own anything," said Iris.

"Oh, are your family poor?" he asked tactlessly.

"Nope," she said, refusing to elaborate.

He looked at her weirdly for a moment before changing the subject.

"Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Iris, thoroughly confused.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Iris shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. Thankfully, he once again changed the subject.

"I say, look at that man!" he exclaimed, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, holding two ice creams and waving at Iris.

"That's Hagrid," said Iris. "He's the gamekeeper at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I've heard of him. I heard he's a sort of savage – lives in a hit in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"He doesn't seem so bad," Iris defended. "I mean, he saved me from the Muggles and told me I was a witch."

"Your parents are Muggles?" said the boy, now sneering.

"No, my parents are dead, so I was raised by Muggles," explained Iris.

"Oh, sorry to hear it," he said. "Why weren't you raised by our kind instead though?"

"I don't know," said Iris. Come to think of it, why wasn't she? Surely even if she had no magical family, anyone would have been preferable to being abused by the Dursleys for ten years! "Hagrid told me it was on some guy called Dumbledore's orders."

"What?" the boy asked, now sounding thoroughly confused and turning to look properly at her, past Madam Malkin, for the first time. Comprehension seemed to dawn on his face.

"That's you done, dear," said Madam Malkin, taking Iris by surprise.

Iris hopped up but the boy called out before she could leave.

"Wait! You're Iris Potter," he stated. She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced, holding his hand out to her. She hesitated for a moment, but offered hers and they shook hands. He stared at her for a couple of seconds before she decided to break the awkward silence.

"Nice to meet you, Draco, but I've got to go now." He was finally shaken out of his stupor.

"Okay," he said, now looking at her with great interest. "Well, I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express, I suppose."

Iris was rather quiet as she ate the chocolate and raspberry ice-cream Hagrid had bought her.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Why did I grow up with the Dursleys?" she asked, fixing her bright green eyes onto Hagrid's black ones.

"It was Professor Dumbledore's orders," answered Hagrid. "He thought yeh'd be safest there, what with You-Know-Who's followers still at large. They would've blamed yeh fer his disappearance."

"But surely a witch or wizard could've kept me safer," Iris pressed on. "Surely the Dursleys weren't my parents' first choice. Didn't anybody else even try to offer to raise me instead?"

"Erm … not really my place to say," Hagrid muttered. "Anyway, Professor Dumbledore thought yeh'd be best off bein' raised by yer mum's sister. He never knew they wouldn't tell yeh who you are."

"So no witch or wizard ever thought to even check on me?" Iris asked, a little anger now in her tone. "And where am I even supposed to be staying now? That letter said Hogwarts doesn't even start for another month!"

Hagrid now looked supremely uncomfortable.

"I'm not going back to them, am I?" Iris asked worriedly.

"It'll just be fer a month," said Hagrid quickly. "An' I'll have a word with Professor Dumbledore about how they really are."

Iris couldn't believe it. She thought she'd finally left the Dursleys behind her, but no, she still had to go back and live with them for a month before school started. And she was no doubt expected to go back there in the holidays too. But things will be different now, she reasoned to herself. She had magic now; she could defend herself and maybe even get some revenge on them.

Despite that thought, she was still angry, so after she finished her ice cream, her and Hagrid shopped for her school supplies mostly in silence. That was until Hagrid gave her some even worse news.

She had been looking at some additional books to the ones on her reading list, such as Curses and Counter-curses by Vindictus Viridian so she could learn some spells to defend herself against the Dursleys. However, Hagrid had refused to let her buy the book.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley!"

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

What was she going to do now? She had to go back to the Dursleys and wasn't allowed to use magic. She hoped that maybe the implied threat of using magic on them would get them to at least leave her alone.

"Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Hagrid was clearly trying very hard to make it up to her, Iris thought. She decided to humour him, Hagrid genuinely did seem like a nice guy, just doing his job. It seemed like this Professor Dumbledore had been the one calling all the shots in her life.

"Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at – an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer post an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they were walking out of Eeylops Owl Emporium with a beautiful snowy owl.

"Thank you," said Iris gratefully. It was undoubtedly the best gift she'd ever been given, easily outstripping the box of dog biscuits she'd been given by Uncle Vernon's sister, Aunt Marge.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Iris started to feel excited. She'd been most looking forward to getting her wand out of everything. She wouldn't really feel like a real witch until she was holding her very own magic wand.

Ollivanders was a tiny shop, mostly filled by thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. It was almost deathly silent in here, but there seemed to be some kind of magic in the air which made the back of Iris' neck prickle.

"Good afternoon," said an old man who Iris could only assume was Mr Ollivander. He appeared to have materialised out of thin air.

"Ah yes," he said softly. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Iris Potter. You look very much like your mother. 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 moved closer to Iris. She didn't think he had blinked since she first lay eyes on him, his wide pale eyes looked a little creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr Ollivander was even closer now.

"And that's where …"

Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Iris' forehead.

"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, then finally turned his attention away from Iris.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again … Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr Ollivander.

"Er – yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though."

"But you don't use them?" said Mr Ollivander suspiciously.

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid said quickly, gripping his pink umbrella tightly.

"Hmmm," said Mr Ollivander, looking at Hagrid. "Well, now – Miss Potter. Let me see." He pulled a tape measure out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Right," said Iris, assuming it would be the same arm she wrote with.

Ollivander busied himself measuring various dimensions of her body, all the while explaining the three types of wand cores he used and how you would never get as good results when using another person's wand.

At long last, the tape measure finished its job and Ollivander pulled a wand out of a box.

"Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

However, before Iris could even finish waving it, Mr Ollivander snatched it back out of her hand. He handed her another.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –"

Again, he snatched it back before she even got a chance to wave it. This cycle went on for quite some time and Iris was left wondering what the point of all the measurements was when picking what wand was best for someone seemed to just be guesswork. Quite a stack of rejected wands was building up and yet Mr Ollivander seemed to grow happier with each passing failure.

"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."

Again, Iris took the wand, but this time Mr Ollivander did not immediately snatch it out of her hand – instead, he stood back and watched expectantly with his wide, pale eyes. She gave it an experimental wave and … nothing happened.

Mr Ollivander took the wand back, looking at it rather disappointedly. "Never mind … How about this one? Aspen and unicorn hair. 8 and a half inches."

And so continued the trend. There were now several stacks of wands Iris had tried to no avail. She was growing increasingly worried that nothing was going to work – she half-expected Hagrid and Mr Ollivander to decide there had been some kind of misunderstanding and she wasn't a witch after all. But Mr Ollivander persevered, seemingly having a great time.

He had just added a blackthorn wand to the pile when he hesitated whilst picking out the next wand. "Surely not …" he muttered, "but perhaps …"

He pulled the wand out of the box. "A very rare combination. Cherry and dragon heartstring. Ten inches. Unyielding."

The moment it touched Iris' hand, she knew it was the perfect wand. Her fingers felt warm and when she waved it, red and green sparks shot out of the end like a firework. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, very good indeed! Well, well, well … how curious … how very curious."
"What's curious?" asked Iris, resisting the temptation to wave her new wand again.

"As I mentioned, cherry and dragon heartstring is a very rare combination. Powerful, very powerful, especially considering this dragon heartstring was taken from a particularly vicious Hungarian Horntail. This is the first wand of this combination which I have ever sold, but I suppose I should've known … you of all people. I think it is fair to say that great things are expected of you, Iris Potter."

Iris didn't like the sound of that at all and she was very glad to be leaving Mr Ollivander's shop after paying him seven Galleons for the wand.

-o0o-

The sun was beginning to set when Hagrid and Iris finally left Diagon Alley via the hidden archway.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," Hagrid said.

They headed to a Muggle takeaway and he ordered Iris a hamburger. Now she had been introduced to the magical world, Iris couldn't help but view these Muggle surroundings in a different light than before. For her entire life, Iris had felt out of place in Little Whinging – now she knew why. She wasn't one of them, like the Dursleys, she was a witch. The thought brought a smile to her face. It soon faded when she remembered she was returning there as soon as she finished the hamburger.

"Hagrid, why does everyone think I'm so special?" she asked. Iris figured she better ask the question that had been bugging her now before she was stranded back on Privet Drive for a month. "I mean, I know I survived that evil curse apparently, and Voldemort disappeared," Hagrid flinched, "but I didn't exactly do anything. I was a baby!"

"I dunno, Iris," Hagrid said thoughtfully. "But yeh have ter remember, these were scary times. An' whatever happened that night, two miracles came out of it. You-Know-Who was gone … and you were alive."

"But how can Mr Ollivander say he expects great things from me? I didn't even know I was a witch yesterday, and I'm not even allowed to try learn any magic on my own this month!"

Hagrid leant closer to her and Iris saw he was wearing a kind smile beneath his wild beard.

"Don' you worry, Iris. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact."

"What do I do if the Dursleys lock me in my cupboard and don't let me go?" Iris asked.

Hagrid looked concerned. "Surely they wouldn' do that," Iris stared back at him seriously. "Well, if they start ter give yeh any trouble at all, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where ter find me."

Iris still wasn't convinced. If she had anywhere else to go, she wouldn't even consider returning to the Dursleys, but she didn't.

Hagrid helped Iris onto the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September – King's Cross – it's all on yer ticket. Remember, any problems with the Dursleys, owl me. See yeh soon, Iris."

The train pulled out of the station, taking Iris back in the direction of another miserable month with the Dursleys.