It didn't take all that long for Harry to find all the books on his list. After Sirius handed the cashier a small stack of dragots, he couldn't help but smile and chuckle at his godson. "Who's that pretty girl that you were talking to a few minutes ago? She seems nice."

Harry's face turned pink. "Uh, yeah... that was Ana. Anastasia Harrison. She's going to be a second-year student this term. I think she said she's a horned serpent or something… I don't recall exactly, but she said that she got grouped with the smart ones… she finished top of her year last term, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah, she'd probably be a Ravenclaw if she went to Hogwarts," agreed Sirius. "She sure seems to come across as bright." He chuckled again. "Anastasia, huh? That's a pretty name for a witch, though uncommon. If memory serves, it means resurrection."

Harry looked at his godfather, somewhat stunned. "Yeah, that's what she said… she even offered to study with me. I'm not going to lie, it'll be nice to spend time with someone that knows how things work at Ilvermorny."

Sirius nodded. "That Anastasia girl sounds like she'd be a good friend to have. Since she has a year under her belt, she'll have plenty of good advice for you… she can tell you things that your Uncle Roger and I cannot, as Ilvermorny may do things a little differently than Hogwarts, so you would do well to listen to her."

"So Hare, what's next on the shopping list?" asked Roger. "We got your books, but you'll still need to be fitted with your uniform, right?"

Harry shrugged. "I s'pose. That, and I need to get some supplies, like a cauldron, some ink, quills, and parchment…"

"What about your wand?" asked Sirius. "Surely that's on your supply list?"

Harry took a second to wipe off his round spectacles. "Hmm… it says that wands are traditionally handed out on campus on the first day of class."

Sirius stroked his stubble-covered chin. "Strange… most of us back in the British Isles got ours in Diagon Alley. Ollivander's makes a good wand, though not everyone gets their wands from that shop."

Harry and the adults kept making their way down the main avenue of Nessel Rode when Rhonda pointed out a sign hanging between two large windows. "Madam Forbush's Orthodox and Outlandish Outfits," she remarked. "I'd wager that's where you can get your clothes for your upcoming term, Harry."

The four went inside, where an elderly plump witch greeted them almost as soon as the door shut behind them. "Welcome to Madam Forbush's," she declared boisterously. "What can I help you with?"

"Hello there. Young Harry here is about to start his first term, and we're here to make sure he's properly outfitted," replied Rhonda. "Are we in the right place?"

The elderly witch chuckled. "Right place? You're in the only place, my dear." She looked at Harry. "Well, come with me, young man." She turned to the adults. "This shouldn't take too long – we'll be finished before you can say higitus figitus!" She escorted him toward the rear of the store, which somehow looked far larger on the inside than the storefront indicated. "All right, sonny, let's see the list they provided you."

Harry dug into his pocket and provided the witch the list that came with his letter. She quickly slipped on reading glasses with lenses shaped like six-pointed stars, and just as quickly returned the list to Harry. She flicked her birch wand several times – once on Harry's head, again on his shoulders, his wrists, his waist, ankles and feet. "I now have your measurements, young man," she purred. "Now, wait here."

Harry sat on a stool and waited patiently for the witch to return. It wasn't a long wait at all – perhaps three or four minutes – and the witch returned with a stack of neatly-folded clothes and a cheerful grin on her face. "Here you go, dear," she squeaked. "Go to the changing room behind you and try these on."

Harry did as he was told, and about five minutes later, he emerged in a plain black robe, white dress shirt with a black bow tie, sweater vest, trousers, and dress shoes.

"You look quite dapper, young man," the plump old witch trilled. "Those are your formal robes – they'll be worn only for special occasions, such as the start of term feast." She then handed him another set of clothes – they looked a little more casual than the previous set. Harry eagerly accepted the new clothes and went back to change.

When he emerged, he wore a plain black golf shirt, khaki trousers, and brown hiking-type boots. "That is your regular uniform. The shirt's pattern will change to reflect your house colors after you get sorted," the witch explained. She again handed him another set of clothes. "You will be expected to be in good physical condition, so these will be what you'll wear when working out each weekday morning."

Again, Harry returned to the changing room to put on a simple white tee shirt and black shorts, along with some basic white running shoes.

"Your trustees can enchant these for you during the winter months to keep you protected from the elements," the witch continued. "You'll learn how to enchant these yourselves during your third year, if memory serves."

"Trustees?" asked Harry, who was thoroughly confused.

The witch chuckled. "They're upperclassmen from each house that act as the eyes and ears of faculty when they're not available. They can be distinguished by the silver sashes that they way on their uniforms. You'll be wise to listen to them… not only can they offer sage advice to firsties, but they can also serve as disciplinarians if you step out of line. They represent their respective house heads, so I urge you to treat them with the same respect that you would faculty."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry breathed, still unsure of what she meant.

The witch merely smiled. "Don't worry too much, dearie. It'll make more sense soon enough." She then yelped. "Oh, I almost forgot. I'll need to throw in a cap, some gloves, and a scarf. Trust me, you'll need them all come winter."

"Thanks," replied Harry appreciatively. "Thanks for all your help."

"My pleasure, young man," chirped the witch. "I'll get your clothes packed and have them ready up front in a jiffy."

Once again, Sirius cheerfully pushed a stack of dragots on the counter toward the cashier. Once Sirius received his change, everyone grabbed a bag of Harry's new school clothes and left the shop to continue their shopping. They got everything on Harry's list, but before they left the shopping district, Sirius cleared his throat. "By the way, Harry, I don't think we've broached the subject of your familiar…"

"Familiar?" asked Harry, his face scrunched in a puzzled expression.

Sirius chuckled. "Companion, if you will. Like an owl, or a toad, or the like. Personally, I'd go with an owl, as they can send and receive letters – even some packages."

Harry's face brightened almost immediately. "That would be brilliant, Padfoot. So, where do we go to get one of those?"

"Right over there," laughed Sirius as he pointed to a sign across the street. "Eeylops Owl Emporium – I didn't know they had a branch this side of the Atlantic!" He led the group to the little shop, where dozens of owls of various sizes and colors stood on perches or rested in cages. "Well pup, see anything you like?" he asked casually.

Harry's jaw dropped at the menagerie – there were something about these owls that struck him as a bit odd. Like, they were far more intelligent than a regular owl. There was something about their faces, like they had an almost-sentient expression. A smallish, snowy owl in a golden cage fluffed its feathers and squawked at Harry several times, as if to grab his attention.

"Well, hello there pretty thing," Harry cooed to the owl. He reached his fingers inside the cage to stroke the little owl's feathers. The owl seemed to react positively to Harry's touch, as it fluffed and fanned its feathers to let Harry know exactly where it wanted his fingers.

"I think she likes you," the shopkeeper told Harry. "My cousin in Diagon Alley sent me this little darling just a few days ago… she doesn't react to my other customers like she does with you!"

"What do you think, pup?" chuckled Sirius. "She obviously likes you."

"She's brilliant," admitted Harry as he picked the cage up to hand to the shopkeeper.

"So, what do you want to call her?" asked Rhonda. "Maybe Celeste?"

Both Sirius and Harry gave Rhonda a strange look. "Okay, maybe not Celeste," Rhonda said in a sheepish tone.

"How about Hedwig?" suggested the shopkeeper. "A one-of-a-kind name, for a one-of-a-kind owl."

Harry nodded in approval. "She rather does look like a Hedwig…" He again looked inside the cage to admire his new feathered friend. "What does a pretty girl like you eat?"

The shopkeeper grinned. "They're natural predators," he explained. "They'll eat small rodents, toads, spiders, snakes, fish, or even other birds! If they're desperate they'll even eat turtles!"

"Am I responsible for feeding Hedwig?" asked Harry.

"Yes and no," replied the shopkeeper. "Hedwig is a very clever girl – you just need to let her out of her cage every day so she can hunt. She doesn't mind her cage – it's her 'safe space' so to speak, but she's happiest when she's flying and foraging. That said, while she can fend for herself, she won't say 'no' to an occasional bit of sausage or a couple of crickets as a treat."

Roger laughed. "I had an owl at Hogwarts just about twenty years ago. He was a big barn owl named Barney. I know, very original name…" Sirius and Rhonda both rolled their eyes.

"Thank you, Padfoot," Harry said appreciatively as his godfather clinked a few coins in the shopkeeper's hand. "It's been a terrific birthday so far."

"Well, it's not every day my godson turns eleven," Sirius replied with a bright smile. Although his four-plus years in Azkaban weathered his otherwise-handsome features, there was still a certain youthfulness in the way he smiled. "Your mum and dad would be so proud of you," he added, tousling Harry's dark, messy hair.

He then pointed down the street, at what appeared to be an ice cream shop. "Hey, I think I just saw your pretty little friend Anastasia walk in there with her folks. If you hurry, maybe you could have a milkshake with her?" He pushed a couple of dragots in Harry's hands. "She really seems to like you," he whispered, giving him a bit of an encouraging push.

"Thanks, Padfoot!" yelped Harry with pure delight in his voice. He bolted toward the ice cream shop as quickly as his little legs could carry him. He momentarily forgot that he still had quite a few belongings in his arms – including his new snowy owl companion, Hedwig – so he had to temporarily set everything down, then hold the door open with his foot while he gathered his bags and owl cage.

Unfortunately, he was so focused on finding Anastasia and her parents that he tripped and fell on the tile floor in plain view of all the patrons. Some of the children either snickered, or just stared… but to Harry's shock, his glasses fell off his face, and he fumbled around to recover them. When he found them, he instinctively placed them on his face, but to his horror, the left lens had a large crack!

"Oh no," he sighed to himself. "Uncle Roger and Aunt Rhonda are going to kill me…"

To his delight, a brunette rocket rushed up to help him gather the remainder of his belongings. "Hiya, Harry," came a familiar squeak.

"Hi there, Ana!" Harry replied. "Am I glad to see you!"

Ana giggled. "I thought you could use a little help there." She then cocked her head as she saw Harry's damaged glasses. "Tsk, tsk, Harry… it looks like your glasses could use a bit of touching up. Now, hold still, mmkay?"

Harry simply nodded while Ana produced her ten and one-quarter inch mahogany wand. "Oculus reparo," she incanted with confidence. And just like that, Harry's glasses were good as new!"

"Awesome, Ana," Harry exclaimed with joy. "That was bloody amazing! Thank you!"

Ana giggle. "My pleasure, Harry." Her giggles only intensified. "Did you really just say bloody?"

Harry's face turned pink. "Erm, I guess so… I think I told you that my family is British."

"That's right. So, how did you end up in North America then?" Ana asked innocently.

"It's a bit of a long story," sighed Harry. "Even I don't know all the details, to be honest. I've asked both my aunt and uncle, and my godfather, but they kind of dodge some of my questions… like, I get the feeling they don't think I'm ready to know the whole story yet."

Ana just nodded. "That's okay," she replied with a smile. She giggled again; Harry couldn't help but smile at the sweet musical laughter she made. "And you can deny it all you want, Harry, but you really are a little clumsy."

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's twice in one day I tumpled over in front of you, so I guess you're right." Again his cheeks flushed. "D'you mind if I sit by you and your family? If you haven't placed your order, I'd like to buy you a milkshake…"

Ana smiled sweetly. "I don't mind at all, Harry. I haven't ordered yet, but if you want to treat me to a milkshake, I won't refuse!"