BOOM

The noise sounded again. Dudley's head shot up. "Where is the cannon?" He muttered.

Uncle Vernon had now made his way down the stairs. He was holding a hunting rifle, and truthfully, I wasn't entirely sure if he had brought it with us or had found it somewhere in the shack. "Who's there?" he shouted. "I'm armed!"

SMASH

Whoever was knocking on the door knocked again with such force that the door fell to the ground with a crash. However, this sight was nothing compared to the man who stood in its place.

Long, messy hair that was nearly comparable to the mane of a lion obstructed the view of the man's face until you met his eyes, black as night. However, the grandest thing about this man was that he stood nearly 7.5 feet tall.

The giant made his way inside, his head just touching the ceiling. He picked the door up, gently reinstalling it on its hinges before turning towards us.

"Couldn't make us a cup of tea, could ya?" He took a few steps towards the sofa, and Dudley scampered from it like a rat to hide behind his mother and father.

The giant then turned to me. "Last time I saw you, you were only a baby." You could see the smile behind his eyes even though so much of his face was obscured. "You look a lot like your dad; you've got your mum's eyes, though."

"Y-You know me?" I managed to stammer out, staring bewildered at the man in front of me.

"I demand you leave at once, sir!" Uncle Vernon shouted at the giant. "You're breaking and entering."

"Careful, Dursley, you're turning purple." The giant chuckled, clearly paying no mind to the rifle in my uncle's hands. "Anyway, Harry," the giant started, "A delighted Birthday to ya. Got some thin for ya, mind ye I might've sat on it."

From a pocket somewhere on his massive overcoat, the giant pulled a slightly flattened white box with a green ribbon tied around it and held it out to me. My hands shook as I opened it.

Inside was a cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it in icing that matched the ribbon with which the box was tied shut. My mouth fell open; I wanted to say thank you. Instead, all I could come up with was-

"Who are you?"

The giant's eyes smiled again. "Right, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at Hogwarts, but ye can call me Hagrid; everyone does." Hagrid held out his hand and shook my entire arm when I took it. "What about that tea then?" He then moved to start a fire in the grate and somehow succeeded despite it being empty mere moments beforehand.

Hagrid moved to sit on the sofa, and it groaned and sagged under his weight as he took an assortment of things from his pockets one by one: a package of sausages, a kettle, a poker, and mugs. He started by cooking the sausages.

"I-I'm sorry… I still don't really know who you are?" I managed to sputter out. Nobody really seemed to be in the mood for an explanation, so I took matters into my own hands.

"I told ye," Hagrid gulped his tea. "I'm the keeper of keys at Hogwarts; of course, you'll know all about Hogwarts."

"N-No… I don't..." I managed to stammer out. The expression on Hagrid's face ranged anywhere from shock to anger, but due to his mass of hair, I couldn't quite tell. "Sorry…"

Hagrid's voice filled the hut. "It's them who should be sorry!" Hagrid turned to face my aunt and uncle. "I knew he hadn't made it to his examination, but you mean to tell me this boy doesn't know anything!"

"I mean, I've been to school…" I tried to defend myself. "I do know maths… and science."

"No, not like that… About our world. Your world. Your parents' world."

"What-"

"DURSLEY." Hagrid roared at my Aunt and Uncle.

"Stop!" Uncle Vernon finally seemed to find his voice. "STOP. I FORBID YOU TO TELL THE BOY ANYTHING!"

You could see pure rage in Hagrid's eyes as he spoke to my uncle again. "You mean to tell me that you never told this boy what was in the letter Dumbledore left for him?!"

"I forbid you to say another word."

Hagrid turned to face me again. "But ye must know about your parents!? I mean they're famous! You're famous!"

"M-My parents aren't famous-" I managed to stammer over Uncle Vernon's shouting.

Hagrid's look of anger melted to one of pity as he rested his hand on my shoulder. "You're a wizard, Harry."

"A what-?"

"A wizard, o'course." Hagrid smiled, pulling something out of his jacket pocket, "And with parents like yours, a great one, I'd say once you've been trained up. Now, normally, the Ministry of Magic gives you placement and such. Still, seeing as you missed your exam, Professor Dumbledore petitioned the ministry to enrol you at Hogwarts and well… the ministry doesn't very often argue with Professor Dumbledore."

Hagrid held a yellowish envelope out to me addressed in emerald green lettering.

Mr H Potter

The Floor

Hut-on-the-Rock

Sea

I quickly pulled the letter out reading it:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

HEADMASTER:

Albus Dumbledore

Dear Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"I-I don't think I understand," I stammered out, "What does it mean they await my owl."

"Right, that reminds me." Hagrid clapped a hand to his forehead, and from another pocket on his coat, he pulled an owl. I stood there watching him, my mouth gaping open, as he scribbled a note down on a piece of parchment: "Gotta write to Professor Dumbledore, let him know I've got yeh."

"He's not going." Uncle Vernon spat. "He'll go to University with normal people and live life like a normal person, and he'll be glad about it."

"I'd like to see a great muggle like you stop him." Hagrid laughed.

"A what-?"

"Muggle. Non-magic folk." Hagrid said. "And you grew up in the biggest lot of 'em I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that dangerous character flaw, stamp it out of him if we had to"

"You knew!" It was my turn to shout.

"Of course we knew, Aunt Petunia spat, "Dratted Lily being what she was? Oh yes, she took that test. Went off to that school. Coming home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn and that weirdo trailing not far behind her. I was the only one who saw her for the freak she was." She took a deep breath and ranted on; clearly, she had been holding this back. "Then she met that Potter, and they left and got married and had you, and of course, I knew you'd be just as strange and abnormal. Then they got themselves blown up, and we got stuck with you!"

I could feel the blood draining from my face, "y-you told me my parents died in a car crash."

"HOW COULD A CAR CRASH KILL LILY AND JAMES POTTER?!" Hagrid roared again, and the Dursleys recoiled back into the corner again. "It's a scandal! Harry Potter doesn't know his own story when every kid in our world knows his name! Haven't you ever wondered how you got that mark on your head?"

My hand found my forehead, tracing its way down the rather large scar that made its way down my forehead like cascading lightning. I'd had it since I was a baby, and I had mostly forgotten about it by now. "But why? What happened?"

"Merlin, Harry, I'm not quite sure I'm the person to tell yeh…" Hagrid threw another dirty look at the Dursleys. "Well… it's probably best to tell ya as much as I can. Mind ya, it's a great mystery part of it."

Hagrid sat down again onto the sofa, which sagged nearly to the floor underneath his weight, "It begins, I suppose, with a man named, well it's incredible you don't know his name — though I suppose most of our folk don't like sayin it much—"

"Why not-"

"WHY NOT — Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is not easy… see… there was this wizard who went… about as bad as you can go. Worse… worse than worse. His name was —"

Hagrid gulped; the name did not follow.

"Could you write it—"

"Nah, can't spell it… it's– well, alright- Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered, "Don't make me repeat it."

I nodded, and Hagrid continued, "Anyway, about 20 years ago, this wizard started looking for followers — got them too — some were afraid, some just wanted a bit of his power. Dark days didn't know who to trust… terrible things happened, Harry, just awful. He was taking over and killing just about anyone who stood up to him. One of the only safe places was Hogwarts… anyway… all anyone knows is he turned up in the village where you and your parents were living on Halloween sixteen years ago. You was only a year old… he came to your house and- well…"

Hagrid pulled a spotty handkerchief out of his pocket, blowing his nose rather loudly. "Sorry," he sniffed, "but it's that sad; I knew your mum and dad, nicer people you couldn't find; they were head boy and girl at Hogwarts in their day… You-Know-Who killed them tried to kill you, too. Suppose he just liked killing by then." Hagrid hesitated, "He couldn't do it; no one knows why. That's how you got that mark on your head; that's what you get when you get touched by a powerful, evil curse. Took care of your mum and dad, but it didn't touch you. That's why you're famous; he killed some of the best Witches and Wizards of the age - the Lunars, the Rowans, the Sterlings. You was only a baby, and you lived."

I honestly didn't know what to say as Hagrid finished his story, finally adding at the end, "took you from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders, of course."

"Now you listen here, boy." Uncle Vernon snarled, "I accept there's something abnormal about you; probably nothing a good beating wouldn't cure. As for your parents, they got exactly what they deserved running around with this crowd, and the world is better off for it."

My face was burning red hot with anger, and Hagrid jumped up off the sofa, pointing a spotted pink umbrella directly at Uncle Vernon's nose. "One more word, Dursley, I'm warning you."

Uncle Vernon seemed to lose his ability to speak once again as a million questions ran through my head, though only one seemed to have prominence over the others, "Hagrid, what happened to Vol— I mean- You-Know-Who?"

"Disappeared. Vanished. The same night, he tried to kill you. Some say he died. That's the biggest mystery: he was getting more and more power, so why'd he go? Makes ya even more famous."

Hagrid had this warm, proud look in his eyes as he watched me; I didn't quite understand it; this all felt like some sort of mistake. Me? A wizard? When the Dursleys had thrown me around like I was made of scrap my whole life?

"Hagrid," I shook my head, "I don't think that's right… I can't be a- wizard… can I?"

"Your powers wouldn't-a turned up til you turned sixteen; that's how the ministry knows who to send the letters to; they have a trace around the whole globe to detect when a wizard comes of age see. Think about it: in the past year, make anything happen that you couldn't explain?"

My mouth dropped open; I thought of the morning at the zoo when the boa constrictor escaped. Hagrid let out a chuckle. "You'll be near famous at Hogwarts."

"Haven't I told you he isn't going!" It seemed Uncle Vernon was not going to go down without a fight. "Petunia had told me all about when Lily went! He'll need all sorts of rubbish, spell books and wands and-"

"If he wants to go, you certainly won't be the one to stop him." Hagrid almost laughed. "A muggle like yourself stop Lily and James Potter's son learning magic. He'll be off to the finest school of magic there is. Seven years at Hogwarts and he won't know himself and—"

"'I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!"

It seemed Uncle Vernon had finally struck a nerve in Hagrid, and he whirled his pink umbrella over his head "NEVER - INSULT - ALBUS - DUMBLEDORE - IN - FRONT OF - ME." Every single syllable out of Hagrid's mouth was pronounced as he aimed the umbrella directly at Dudley; there was a flash of light as Dudley let out a shriek.

Dudley had sprouted a curly pig's tail that now poked through his pyjamas. Aunt Petunia let out a sharp gasp, and Uncle Vernon whisked the three of them off into the spare room; Hagrid took this as a surrender.

"Shouldn't've lost my temper, I 'spose." He looked mildly embarrassed if I were being honest. "Though I suppose I should be glad it didn't work… I was tryin' to turn him to a pig; I'm not supposed to be doin' magic, strictly speaking. We should- uh- get going. A long journey back to London, and we got lots to do tomorrow."

It took nearly two-and-a-half hours to get to London from wherever it was Uncle Vernon had brought us. We managed to get the very last train of the night, and we had nearly arrived in London by the time I worked up the courage to speak again.

"Hagrid…" The giant looked up at me, seemingly surprised that I had said anything at all. "Why aren't you supposed to do magic?"

"I—oh—um well—to say yeh the truth," Hagrid stammered; the question seemed to catch him off guard. "I was at Hogwarts myself, but I—uh—got expelled in my third year. They even snapped my wand in half. But Dumbledore convinced 'em to let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"We'll be staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight, then it's off to Diagon Alley to get yer school things." Hagrid avoided the question entirely; I supposed it must be something he was sensitive about, so I didn't press him for more information.

I had never been to London before, and the Leaky Cauldron, as it turned out, was a shabby little public house between a bookstore and a record shop. Nobody who was walking on the street even seemed to notice. Silently, I wondered to myself if they could, though Hagrid insisted the place was famous. However, seeing as he booked the rooms prior to our arrival, the place was relatively empty when we arrived as its patrons had all already gone to bed.

The following day, there was a knock at my door, and I squeezed my eyes shut tight. I remember thinking, 'There's Aunt Petunia at the door.' I rubbed my eyes, thinking it was all a dream and I would soon have to make my way downstairs to watch the bacon, fry eggs, or engage in some other frivolous activity that the Dursleys simply didn't want to do themselves. Until–

"Are yeh up yet, Harry? We got a long day ahead of us; you should come down for breakfast; best sausages you can find the Leaky Cauldron has."

My eyes shot open, "Hagrid?"

"Well, who else would it be? Hurry up and get dressed; we've lots to do."

I found Hagrid relatively quickly when I reached the dining room, primarily due to his massive stature. He pushed a plate of food across to me as I sat down.

It was rather dark in the Leaky Cauldron, which seemed to be made primarily from cut stone and lit chiefly by lanterns scattered unevenly around the room. Everything in the building seemed rustic and old, a stark contrast from the poshly decorated house on Privet Drive.

I ate quietly while Hagrid read the newspaper. I knew from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone as they did this, so I occupied myself with watching the people as they came and went. There were a few funny little witches gathered in the corner wearing pointy hats and admiring baskets that seemingly contained their shopping for the day. Then there were the wizards by the bar with grand old beards and wise eyes who seemed to be in a heated discussion over something I overheard them call 'transfiguration today.' In fact, I was so entranced by a pair of dwarves who were singing a funny song that I didn't even notice that nearly the entirety of the rest of the pub had gone quiet.

"Bless my soul," I heard the man at the bar whisper, and I turned quickly in his direction. He hurried out from behind the bar, heading in mine and Hagrid's direction. "Harry Potter, what an honour." He extended his hand to me, and if my face reddened as I shook it, I don't think he noticed. "Welcome back, Mr Potter, welcome back."

Everyone in the pub now had their eyes on me; Hagrid was beaming. I didn't know what to say; I watched as an older woman at the bar kept puffing her pipe despite the fact that it had already burnt out.

After a few moments of silence, the atmosphere changed immediately; it suddenly seemed as if there wasn't a single soul in the Leaky Cauldron who didn't want to shake my hand.

A pale young man made his way forward. One of his eyes was twitching. "P-P-Potter." He held his hand out to me; it was shaking. "Can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you."

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid recognised the man immediately. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

I looked the man up and down sceptically; he looked almost like he was about to jump out of his skin. "What- sort of magic do you teach Professor Quirrell?"

"D-D-Defense Ag-gainst the DarK Arts." The thought seemed to frighten him as well. "Y-You'll be picking your school things up then, P-Potter? I've got to p-pick up a new book on v-vampires myself."

"Well, thanks for stopping to chat, Professor, but Harry'n, I need to be getting on to Gringotts." Hagrid's eyes lit up in what I assumed to be a smile, and he began to lead me away from the crowd of people.

I suddenly realised there was a significant problem with our day's plans as I followed Hagrid out the back of the pub through a narrow hallway. "Uhm, Hagrid?"

"Mm?" Hagrid hummed as he began counting bricks on the wall in the back alleyway.

"I haven't got any money."

Hagrid nearly toppled over with how hard he laughed. "D'yeh think your parents didn't leave you anything?

"You said their house was destroyed-"

"They didn't keep their gold in the house," Hagrid said, going back to counting bricks. "First stops Gringotts, Wizard's bank."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one," he finished this sentence off as if it were as normal as night and day, "run by goblins." Finally, Hagrid tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella. The brick he had touched quivered—it wriggled. In the middle, a small hole appeared—it grew wider and wider—a second later, it was an archway, large even for Hagrid. "Welcome," he paused for dramatic effect, "to Diagon Alley."

My mouth gaped with amazement; the street was unlike anything I had ever seen. We stepped through, and the archway immediately shrunk back down to the wall it had started as. I found myself wishing I could look everywhere at once. I started reading the signs on the shops as we passed through the crowds of people.

"Cauldrons – All Sizes – Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver – Self-Stirring – Collapsible"

Or

"Eeylops Owl Emporium – Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy"

Or

"Quality Quidditch Supplies - Quaffles, Bludgers, Goggles and Broomsticks" There was quite a crowd around this shop.

And

"Florean Fortescue's Never Melting Ice Cream"

Finally, we reached the end of the alley where a large white building towered over us, "Gringotts," Hagrid stated plainly. I followed him up the steps into the entrance hall where there stood- "Yeah- that's a goblin." Hagrid said, almost like he had read my mind.

The goblin couldn't have been more than two feet tall, although its ears were large and tall enough for it to measure three; it had bright green skin, cat-like yellow eyes that almost glowed, razor-sharp teeth that stuck out from its lower jaw and wore a tattered black cloak that fell to its ankles, where I also noticed it wasn't wearing any shoes. Hagrid led me through another large pair of silver doors into a long marble hall. Hundreds more goblins in the same tattered black robes sat behind a counter that spanned the length of the room. Hagrid approached the counter, and I followed close behind.

"We've come to take some money from Mr Harry Potter's safe," Hagrid stated plainly to the goblin that stood before him.

"Does Mr Harry Potter have his key?"

"Oh—I've got it here somewhere…" Hagrid started emptying his pockets onto the counter until he finally found a tiny golden key. He handed it to the goblin, who examined it closely.

"That seems to be in order," the goblin handed the key back to Hagrid.

"And I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore." Hagrid leaned in to whisper to the goblin so that the surrounding people couldn't overhear: "It's about the you-know-what in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

"Very well. I will have someone take you down to both vaults."

A goblin called Griphook led us down a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches up to a railway track. He whistled, and a cart appeared; we were instructed to climb aboard.

The cart hurtled down a seemingly never-ending railway at top speed. Hagrid looked like he would be sick. Finally, the cart stopped next to a large door; we stepped out, Hagrid leaning heavily against the wall of the passage.

Griphook unlocked the door, and a gush of green smoke emerged from behind it. My jaw could have dropped to the floor; there were several large piles of little gold, silver, and bronze coins.

"All yours." Hagrid beamed.

All mine. My Aunt and Uncle must've not known about this.

Hagrid moved to scoop a few handfuls of the coins into a leather pouch. "The gold ones are Galleons, seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a sickle. Easy enough," Hagrid then turned back to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please."

We must've been hundreds of miles under London by the time we reached vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen. It was located on a platform that looked out over a massive ravine. I tried to lean over the edge to get a better look, but Hagrid pulled me back by the back of the shirt.

Vault seven-hundred-and-thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," Griphook said significantly before stroking the door with one of his fingers, the door simply melting away as he did. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there."

I shuddered at the thought. Who knows how often the goblins checked to see if anyone was trapped inside these unique vaults? Something extraordinary must be in this vault.

Hagrid reached for whatever was inside, and I prepared myself for something unique.

And then-

It wasn't.

Hagrid shoved a grubby little package the size of a tennis ball into his pocket, and I peered around him; there was nothing else inside. Wizards are very odd, indeed. I thought to myself. I knew better than to ask what was in the package.

"Might as well get your uniform first. That's Madame Malkins over there; they'll get you sorted." Hagrid said plainly once we stepped back out in the sunlight after visiting Gringotts. He looked positively green after the cart ride. "You wouldn't mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron?"

I nodded, watching as Hagrid made his way to the Leaky Cauldron before heading towards the shop where Hagrid had pointed… The walls were covered in fabrics of all colours. A short woman dressed in mauve, who I assumed to be Madame Malkin, asked what school I was headed to before leading me back to a fitting area where several people stood on platforms getting their measurements taken.

I was standing on a platform next to a girl with long, wild black hair and piercing, sunken blue eyes. She was fitted with a light blue uniform with gold fastenings and leaning against a heavy black walking stick topped with what looked like the head of a raven. She didn't say anything but smiled in a friendly way as I walked past her.

There was also a blonde boy sitting in a chair behind her who looked rather bored. There was a garment bag sitting at his feet that told me his fitting had already finished. He must have sensed me looking at him because it only took him a second to look up from the book in his hand. "Oh, hello." His voice was drawn out and bored. "Hogwarts, too?"

I simply nodded, not entirely sure what to say; I didn't want to make a wrong impression on the first wizards I met who were my age.

"Do you know what house you'll be in yet?" the boy went on, and the girl who was being fitted on the platform rolled her eyes with exaggeration. I shook my head. He smirked, "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they? But I know I'll be in Slytherin. All our family have been—well, almost all our family have been."

"Play nice," the girl on the platform finally spoke up; she had an accent that wasn't quite what you'd expect from the French but wasn't native to England either. "We've discussed it, Draco. My father wanted me to attend Beauxbaton, and that's what I will do."

"Do you play Quidditch?" the boy started again, completely ignoring the girl's statement. I shook my head. "I do; Father says it'll be a crime if I'm not picked for my house team. I don't know why first-years aren't allowed to have their brooms. I think I'll bully Father into allowing me to smuggle mine in."

"It would rather be a miracle if you do not fly into a tree," The girl giggled.

"That happened ONCE."

The boy reminded me strongly of Dudley.

"Merlin's sake, look at that man!" The boy said suddenly, his attention now turned to the front window of the shop.

"That's Hagrid," I stated plainly as if I had known this my whole life. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh right," the boy rolled his eyes. "I've heard of him; he's a sort of servant."

"Gamekeeper," The girl spoke up again, "You will never have friends if you keep talking about people this way."

"I already have friends, Brynn; Father said Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle will be attending Hogwarts; that Parkinson girl as well, she isn't too insufferable." The boy scoffed, crossing his arms. "Besides, I've heard he's a sort of savage. He lives in a hut on Hogwarts grounds; now and then, he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and sets fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant…" I nearly whispered.

"Do you? Why? Is he with you?" The boy's gaze shot in my direction, and I felt my face heat up. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead."

"Oh, sorry." Though really, the boy did not sound sorry in the slightest. "But they were our kind, weren't they? I do think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

"It's rude to ask a stranger about their blood status, don't you think?" The girl protested, but again, he ignored her.

"Say, I don't recognise you." The boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What's your surname?"

Before I could answer, Madame Malkin carefully tapped my shoulder, "That's you done, deary."

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose." The boy said plainly while simultaneously checking for dirt under his nails, and I exited the shop. Hagrid had gotten ice cream for the both of us, and I ate it quietly; Hagrid must've noticed something was up because he was soon asking.

"What's up?"

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?" I asked the question that I assumed would be the easiest to answer first.

"Uh… It's a sport, like basketball or baseball, played on broomsticks… blimey, there is a lot you don't know."

"Don't make me feel worse." I groaned, letting my head fall to my hands.

"What brought this on?" Hagrid looked at me with concern in his eyes.

"There was this boy in Madame Malkins who was going on about how magic should be kept in the 'old wizarding families.'"

"You are from an old wizarding family; the Potters have had magic for generations. If he'd known who you were, he'd have grown up hearing your name if his parents were wizarding folk."

"And… what is a Slytherin…"

"School house. There are 4 of 'em. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." That's where the conversation ended.

We bought my books at a shop called Flourish and Blotts, where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather. Then, the apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, which was a mixture of rotten eggs and rotted cabbage.

"Just your wand left," Hagrid muttered as we left the apothecary. "Oh! And I haven't got ye a birthday present."

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Say 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, Hagrid had bought a giant snowy owl, and we were walking down the road towards Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A bell rang out somewhere in the shop when the door opened, and Hagrid sat on a rather spindly chair to wait.

"Good afternoon." A soft voice rang out from behind us. Hagrid must've jumped because there was a loud crunch, and Hagrid stood quickly from the spindly chair. "Ah yes, Harry Potter, I knew I'd be seeing you here soon."

Mr. Ollivander reminded me slightly of the posters of Albert Einstein that were sometimes hung up in science classrooms. "Hello," I said awkwardly.

"Your mother bought her first wand here. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work. Sweet girl, shame what happened." Mr Ollivander stepped closer to me, his face inches from mine as if he was closely trying to examine every detail, though his eyes were silvery and clouded, and it made me wonder if he could actually see at all. It was rather creepy, actually. "Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and is excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

I realised I was holding my breath as Mr Ollivander started walking around me in circles, taking measurements. "And that's where-" He had reached out a honey finger to touch the scar on my forehead; I pulled back quickly, flattening my fringe over it. My scar was always something Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had made me feel ashamed to have, and I wasn't used to it being such an item for curiosity. "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." His tape measure, long forgotten, was now taking measurements on its own.

Mr Ollivander flitted off to the back of the shop, and Hagrid shot me a look that stated plainly, "Yeah, he's always like this."

"Which arm is your wand arm?" Mr. Ollivander came back carrying several boxes.

"Uh.. Well, I'm right-handed."

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And, of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." Ollivander stated plainly as if this was common knowledge, and I supposed it probably was. "Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Nothing happened.

I must have tried hundreds of wands. Mr Ollivander wasn't entirely happy with any of them, and the pile on the floor grew taller and taller. I felt like a kid in a shoe store who just had a growth spurt and couldn't find anything that fit right.

Then again, what if nothing fit right?

"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."

I almost didn't notice it at first, but when I took the wand from Mr Ollivander, it felt warm against my skin. I did as I was told, waving it again. Red sparks shot from it like fireworks, and Hagrid let out a cheer.

"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious …" Mr Ollivander took the wand from me, put it back in its box, and wrapped the box in ribbon so that it wouldn't open on the journey home while continuing to mutter. "Curious… curious indeed."

"Sorry…" I interrupted even though a feeling in my gut told me I shouldn't. "What's curious?"

"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."

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves." Hagrid tried to make small talk in Paddington station. I had been mostly quiet since we visited Ollivanders, and I think he knew something wasn't quite right. He bought us both hamburgers, and we sat on a plastic bench to eat them.

"Everyone thinks I'm special…" I paused. "I don't feel special… I didn't know about magic at all until you arrived last night."

"Don't you worry about that? Everyone starts from the beginning at Hogwarts. You'll be fine, and you'll have a great time. I did, and I still do."

When the train arrived, Hagrid helped me load my things into it before handing me an envelope. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," He said. "First o' September—King's Cross—it's all on yer ticket. If there are any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with your owl. She'll know where to find me. See you soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station, and just like that, the most incredible day of my life ended.