Harry's anger never lasted long. It came like a hot flash, burning everything around it and then vanished. It had been like that ever since he was young, though through the years he did not have the opportunity to express it in front of his family. So when he had done so the morning he found out the truth about his parents, they were shocked and slightly more afraid than before with how his magic lashed out.

But there was that one moment where Harry had seen his Aunt's gaze soften, her expression slacken. It almost looked like nostalgia. But the woman hid the expression quickly.

But that had been a few days ago. Harry had calmed down, he had spoken to his family, and now he waited for a reply from the headmistress.

"They'll write back, right? They won't take my invite to the school away right?" Harry asked his serpentine friend one night.

"Hogwarts does not do anything of the sort. If they are taking time to reply, then just know other students wrote back before you" the snake had assured the boy.

And finally, the day arrived.

One fine morning there was a gentle knock at the door during breakfast. Uncle Vernon sent Dudley to get the door, and the boy came back looking slightly off-colour.

"There's someone at the door to meet you Harry" he informed his cousin before returning to his seat at the table. Harry left the remains of his breakfast at the table and rushed to see who had come.

It was a tall severe severe-looking older woman. She wore emerald green tartan pattern robes, square spectacles and a pointed hat cocked to one side.

"Hello," Harry greeted softly, not entirely sure how to address the woman. He wasn't sure who this was after all, he didn't know whether the woman was a teacher or someone hired to help the children get their things for school.

"Good morning Mr Potter" the woman replied in a kind tone. The woman opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by a shrill feminine voice.

"You're Professor McGonagall I presume."

It was Aunt Petunia, standing a bit away behind Harry. "Lily's told me about you. You were one of her teachers."

"I did" Professor McGonagall answered with a tight smile.

"Why are you here?"

"I asked her to be" Harry cut in this time, turning to face his aunt. "I needed to get things for school, and I wasn't sure whether you or Uncle Vernon were free to take me."

Aunt Petunia gave a curt nod. "Go finish your breakfast and put on some proper clothes. Professor, please come in."

Harry rushed back into the kitchen, ate the remainder of his breakfast and then rushed upstairs to change into something proper. Maybe he'd put on one of the newer clothes he'd been 'gifted'.

It was an odd sight, a woman wearing robes and a pointed hat on the train. People stared, whispered and gave odd looks. But Professor McGonagall seemed to be immune to them, ignoring it all and reading the newspaper.

Harry stared around at the different people, taking in each face before taking out the list of things he'd need to buy from his pocket. It had come with the letter, a separate page that Harry would have missed if his snake friend had not asked about it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for daywear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT

ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

Harry folded the lists and put it back in his pocket again. He doubted that he could buy all of this in London. But that was not the question he wanted to ask Professor McGonagall.

"My Aunt said you knew my mother" Harry finally asked the question that was swimming in his mind ever since he'd learned that little piece of information.

Professor McGonagall put the paper away and looked at the boy with a smile.

"Indeed Mr Potter. I taught her at school. I also taught your father."

She knew them both. His chest tightened.

"What were they like?"

Professor McGonagall relaxed in her seat, leaning slightly into it.

"Your mother, well she was vivacious and extremely talented. She was responsible, witty, kind and charming as well. She had a sharp tongue and did not shy away from speaking her mind when in a temper. Her temper was" the woman chuckled softly, "but she calmed just as quickly as she was angered, and was always willing to give people who deserved it a second chance."

"Your father, now he was a clever and talented one as well. But when he was younger he was very mischievous, arrogant and boasted a lot about the things he had and the things he could do. You could say he was a bit of a bully. But that is not to say that he had no redeeming qualities. He was very open-minded, accepting of those who were not like him, and very protective over his friends. He eventually grew out of his less savoury habits and became a man you should be proud of calling your father."

Harry ducked his head and tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. This was the most he'd been told about his parents ever, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. His mother was just… brilliant. His father… left a lot to be desired. A bully, how could he be a bully, like Dudley was to him?

He shook the thought out of his head. The man got better, he became a better man.

"Do I… do I look like them?" Harry finally asked. There was a long pause after which Harry heard a soft sigh.

"You take after your father, Mr Potter, but you have your mother's eyes."

Harry raised his head and for a moment his eyes met Professor McGonagall's, and he was certain that they glistened with unshed tears.

"Are we going to find all of these things in London?" Harry asked once the duo had left the station and walked out into the crowd of London. Harry had never heard of shops selling magical things in London. He was certain that such a thing would be big news.

"Not in London per se, we need to pass through London to get there" Professor McGonagall explained.

When passing through London was mentioned, Harry expected that they'd take the cab or something similar, not end up in front of a tiny, grubby-looking pub.

"Here?"

"Not quite" the Professor smiled, removing her pointed hat and placing it on Harry's head. "Keep this on Mr Potter" the woman added before walking into the pub, having a firm grip on the boy's hand.

When they entered the establishments, some of those who were inside greeted the Professor respectfully. The Professor only nodded to them, briskly walking to a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.

"Were they all witches and wizards back there?" Harry asked, fumbling with the ha on his head.

"Yes" answered the Professor, "the pub has a spell that makes it unnoticeable to anyone who is not magical. You'll only find those with magic in here" she explained, procuring a hand from the sleeve of her cloak. Harry's eyes shone with interest seeing the wand. The Professor was about to perform a spell.

The Professor tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand.

The bricks she touched quivered, and wiggled, and in the middle, a small hole appeared. Slowly the hole grew wider and wider, and a second later they were facing an archway onto a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

"We will be buying your things from here Mr Potter" The Professor put her hand back up the sleeve of her cloak. "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Professor McGonagall smiled at the look of wonder on Harry's face. Harry wished he had more than two eyes so he could take in everything around him.

But before they went into any of those stores, they headed straight for the snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was a creature that made Harry freeze on his feet.

Professor McGonagall noticed it with a frown, followed Harry's gaze and clicked her tongue.

"I knew I was forgetting something," the woman said softly. "Wizarding Britain has one bank and it is run by Goblins. Once we enter the establishment I will ask one of the bank tellers to give you a better explanation and lesson about the history of the bank. Remain respectable. The goblins do not take any form of disrespect lightly.

Harry gave a short nod, quickly looking away from the goblins before they noticed him staring. He followed Professor McGonagall with his eyes lowered, but he could feel the weight of their gaze on him.

Harry was not sure how long he was in the bank, but by the time he did get out the sun was on top of his head, his pockets were a little heavier and his head held more information about goblins, banks and goblin wars than he'd thought it ever would. Even Professor McGonagall looked a little disturbed.

The duo moved from store to store, buying all of Harry's essentials for school. There were more Harry wished to buy, things that caught his eye, but Professor McGonagall had been adamant about why Harry did not need such things.

All that remained in the end was the wand, the thing that Harry could use to cast spells.

Or at least that's what the expectations of any witch and wizard were Harry had been performing magic with his hands and his mind for a few years now. He wasn't sure he even needed a wand.

And yet here he was with Professor McGonagall in the store that sold wands, being measured by a magic tape measure that was extremely close to tickling his nose.

"You have your mother's eyes" the shop owner Mr Ollivander said, "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."

The man moved closer to Harry and the boy could see his reflection in those milky white eyes. It was creepy how unblinking the man was.

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

The tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor and Mr Ollivander procured a box from the many behind him. "Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a whirl."

Harry accepted the wand and immediately placed it back."

"No" the boy shook his head.

"Mr Potter-"

"This one isn't right" Harry cut his Professor off.

Professor McGonagall looked aghast, but Mr Ollivander looked extremely curious. He moved back and brought another wand out.

'Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy" the man spoke but Harry shook his head. Harry could not explain it, but something about these wands just did not feel right, as if they were rejecting him as much as he was rejecting them.

"I haven't had such a tricky customer in a while, one that so strongly reacts to the magic in these wands" the man inhaled deeply. "Mr Potter, I would like to request you to close your eyes."

Harry looked at Professor McGonagall, from whom he received a nod. Harry shut his eyes.

"Picture the world around you in your head, picture the shop and every detail you can muster up. Now I want you to reach out, and let your magic run free yet within control."

"How?" Harry asked, his eyes still shut.

"Look within yourself and you will understand."

Frown deepening Harry looked within himself, reaching out to his core of magic. It was an exercise the snake had him do the first day of it training him. He knew that much knew how to spread the magic through his body, focus it at a point and use it.

Perhaps it was something similar.

Harry reached in, connected to his core, and let it wash over him. But instead of focusing on a single point, he pushed it out from all over his body, a gentle wave perfectly within control.

It was like the warmth had left his body with the magic and left an odd coldness. But he could feel a connection to it still, but it was growing weaker the further it went. Harry lost the connection entirely when it reached the back of the shop, the parts that he had not pictured since he had not seen it.

And then he felt it, something calling it him. Harry called back.

He heard something crash and his eyes flew open. On reflex, he shot his hand up and caught something in his hand. A wand he realized.

"Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple" Mr Ollivander was speaking with a grin. "You've performed magic without a wand haven't you Mr Potter."

"A little. I sometimes do it to get things out of my reach or to put them away" Harry confessed, keeping the part about the snake a secret for now.

"Yes, that would explain why you're having such a reaction to the wands and why they were reacting to you. Your magic was well acquainted with your body and so it knew the kind of magic the wand possessed and decided how it felt. But still… how curious that your magic would accept that wand."

"Why is it curious?" Harry asked.

"'I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother– why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry physically took a step back at those words.

"Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew" Mr Ollicander went on without notice, "Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great."

Harry turned wide eyes to Professor McGonagall, making a silent demand to know more. The Professor sighed and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"We have things to talk about Mr Potter."