Diagon Alley, July 31st, 1991

Diagon Alley was bustling. Kids and adults walked through the streets, bags full of sweets, books and various curiosities. Everywhere he looked, his attention was captured by the bright store signs, spinning and whizzing in a frenzied jumble. Harry had been to the famous street before, but the colourful shops and rambunctious shoppers never failed to put a smile on his face. Yet, a part of Harry's mind didn't let him relax. Instilled by the years of living on the streets, it showed him the attentionless shoppers, the bags of coin lying there for the taking in passersby's pockets. It would be so easy, they weren't even looking!

In the end, rationality won out. Harry didn't need money anymore. He had his family fortune, and his manager in Gringotts was wracking in a respectable sum every month. However, he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't miss the thrill of stealing, the risk of being caught and getting out solely thanks to his skill honed through years of training.

Harry's fantasizing was cut short by Hathewiga nudging his shoulder. She pointed at a sober brown shop with old-styled golden letters forming the words "OLLIVANDERS: MAKERS OF FINE WANDS SINCE 832 B.C.".

"It's time for you to get your wand, Harry. I won't be going with you. It's a rather personal experience", she said with a small smile.

Harry nodded and ran up to the shop. As he approached, his heart beat faster as dread seeped into his gut. What if no wand would choose him? Would Hathewiga abandon him? He didn't know what he would do if that ever happened. She was his friend and the only person he cared about. More importantly, she was the only person that ever cared about him. Putting his anxiety aside, Harry took a deep breath and entered the shop.

It was a dusty little place. Shelves upon shelves of haphazardly stacked rectangular boxes lined the walls. It was a wonder how they didn't tumble to the floor. Behind the counter was a small door through which Harry could see a room full of bright purple smoke.

"Is anybody there?" he asked into the air to no answer but a small sizzle and bang coming from the side room.

He called again, only to receive the same answer. Frustrated, Harry was about to enter the side room when a raspy voice finally replied, "I'll be there in a second!"

Harry waited patiently as an old man with frazzled hair stepped out of the purple smoke.

"Excuse me for the long wait. I was experimenting with a particularly energetic Puffskein's hair strand. I'm afraid it didn't take well to Dogwood. Surprising, considering their similar nature. Perhaps if paired with the right catalyst... Pardon me, where are my manners? Garrick Ollivander. Nice to meet you- ah..." The newly named Garrick Ollivander's eyes fell on Harry's small form, "Harry Potter".

Harry tensed up and checked himself over. His disguise was still on. "How do you know my name?"

The old man only smiled in response. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Mr. Potter. Let an old dog keep his tricks. Your secret identity will stay with me. You have my word."

Harry didn't know if the man was speaking the truth, but it didn't seem like he had much say in the matter, so he nodded in assent.

"Now, Mr Potter, let us find your wand", the man continued and pulled out a box from the middle of the stack, "Hornbeam and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches, slightly springy. Perhaps this one will be your match."

Mr Ollivanders took the wand from the box and passed it to Harry. Yet, before he even had the chance to touch it, Harry's magic grumbled in

discontent.

"I don't think this is the one", Harry said apologetically, handing the wand back to the man without even trying it out.

Instead of taking offence, the wand maker's eyes only seemed to glow in anticipation. "Oh? Why so?"

"It just felt off, I suppose. My magic didn't seem to like it", Harry mumbled, suddenly feeling pretty stupid.

"Nothing to worry about", Mr Ollivanders swiftly reassured him, "it sometimes happens to those with an especially strong connection to their magic. Why don't you try to feel your way through the wands? Perhaps you will find one that matches your magic.

Harry nodded and approached the rows of boxes. It was a bizarre experience. He could feel the wands inside of the boxes. Some called to him, and others made him back away. They filled him with warmth or chilled him to the bones. Yet, none of them felt right. Harry was beginning to get disconcerted when suddenly, he felt a jerk from his magic. His eyes landed on a dark purple box half-hidden under the masses of other boxes.

"This one", Harry told the shopkeeper, "this one feels right."

Ollivanders took the box out of the stack in a swift, smooth gesture that didn't fit his old age and pulled off the lid.

"Hawthorn and a heartstring of a Hebridean Black, thirteen inches, rather supple. An intriguing combination." Ollivanders trailed off, his gaze distant and pondering.

"Why so?"

Ollivanders refocussed on the boy, "Hawthorn is a wood of great contention, an abnormal oxymoron. Closely linked with birth and death, Hawthorn wands may be particularly suited to healing magic, but are also proficient at curses. It is a paradoxical wand that still poses many questions in the wand-making community. Much like Hawthorn, Hebridean Blacks are dragons with a dual nature. While they can be violent and aggressive, they are also known to show great empathy and have let wizards who have shown them respect live on several occasions. A very unusual happenstance for a dragon, I assure you. Combined in a wand, these two will make you a formidable friend and a ferocious opponent. However, much like I told the young boy who later gave you that scar, whatever path you may choose, I expect it to be great. Terrifying perhaps, but most assuredly great."

Harry left the shop, head spinning at the wandmaker's words. He knew, of course, who the shopkeeper was referring to. Hathewiga had made sure to teach him all about the attacks and atrocities that had happened during the Great Wizarding War. This knowledge only made him want to puke even more. Could he really become as bad of a monster as him? Was he truly like Voldemort?

He was shaken out of his musings by a female voice, "Hey, Harry, are you alright?"

Harry turned to meet Hathewiga's pale blue eyes, looking back at him with worry.

"Yeah", he answered, his shaky voice showing anything but that.

"Hey", Hathewiga kneeled down and hugged the eleven-year-old boy, "It's alright. Whatever that man said, don't listen to him. He's a barmy old codger that can't see further than his wooden stick."

Harry giggled at the image of the wandmaker having to put his wand to his forehead to be able to see.

"You can't be defined by what your wand is made of", Hathewiga continued, "only your actions can do that. No one but you can decide who you will become. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Harry smiled at her words, deepening the hug. He was happy that he had someone like Hathewiga beside him. He didn't know what he would do without her.

After that brief bonding session, Hathewiga released the hug and straightened up, "Now, let's get you your present."

She grinned broadly at Harry's confused expression, "You didn't think your wand was the only present I had for you, did you? Now come on, your present awaits!"

Hathewiga took Harry's hand and led him down the street. They walked for about a minute when suddenly, Hathewiga stopped and pointed at a very lively shop. Caws, hoots, growls and hisses came from the shop in a cacophony of noises. Long vines and exotic plants surrounded the entrance door, above which was the shop sign.

"The Magical Menagerie", Harry read in wonder.

"Indeed, it is", Hathewiga said enthusiastically, "I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I thought you could choose yourself. Whatever you want, it's yours."

Hathewiga was startled as Harry threw himself into her arms.

"Thank you", the boy said in a small voice that made the older woman smile with affection. She still remembered the very first time he had received a present.

"*"

FLASHBACK

Hathewiga's Dungeon, July 31st 1990

It was a usual day for the pair. Harry was reviewing his lesson in the pensieve while Hathewiga read an old tome from her massive library. Yet, despite her progress in her project, she couldn't focus on reading. Her gaze couldn't help but jump to the still boy crouching over the basin.

It had been ten months since Harry came into her life. At first, he was shy and nervous, never speaking more than necessary and never relaxing when she was near. Yet, as time went on, he seemed to come out of his shell and start joking around with her. That was when the brat began to call her Hattie. But she couldn't stay annoyed with him. His development as a human being was heartwarming, and she felt proud of the boy for how he was turning out.

Her musings were cut short by the strange sound announcing the activation of the Pensieve. She turned around to see Harry looking around, dazed after his lesson. A long trip through memory lane could do that to you. After looking around the room again, Harry's eyes focused on Hathewiga, and his face split into a smile.

"Hey Hattie, long time no see."

It had been a few days since she had left Harry to his devices. It was a common occurrence. She would leave him an assignment to complete while she led her own projects on the side. She couldn't spend all her time with him after all.

"Well, I thought I'd come back to wish my apprentice a happy birthday."

Her tone was light and happy, but Harry's expression showed great suspicion. Hathewiga wondered why Harry would have such a reaction. He was ten, after all. It wasn't his first birthday. Then, she remembered who Harry had spent the major part of his childhood with, and a sudden outrage overcame her. She didn't show it on the outside, however. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued as if she hadn't noticed his reaction.

"I have a present for you", Hathewiga said, pulling out a small rectangular box of a pastel purple colour.

Harry simply stood there, unmoving, not knowing how to react.

"Come on then", Hathewiga softly instructed, "open it."

As if moving automatically, Harry took the box from her hands. He gently started unwrapping the box, making sure not to damage the paper. Finally having unwrapped the box, he opened it. Inside was a simple yet elegant silver necklace representing a nightingale. Harry stared at it, unmoving.

Taking his lack of reaction for dismay, Hathewiga got slightly nervous, "I thought it would represent your new life here with me, a sort of welcome to the family. I know it might be a bit too soon, but I thought-"

Hathewiga was interrupted by a small frame ramming into her, "Thank you, I love it."

Hathewiga smiled and wrapped her arms around the little boy, "You're welcome. As I said, we're family now."

END OF FLASHBACK

"*"

Hathewiga would always cherish that memory. Yet, all good things one day come to an end. Soon, Harry will be gone, and their relationship destroyed forever. It was unfortunate, but it must be done. Not now, though. Right now, Harry needed to enjoy his eleventh birthday, and she will try her best to accomplish that goal.

"Well", Hathewiga broke the comfortable silence, "let's get your animal."

Harry was overcome with joy. He will be getting a new friend! Frankly, he kind of missed Hathewiga in her owl form. He preferred her as a human, of course. An animal can't talk back or give hugs. Still, an animal friend would be pretty cool.

Harry entered the shop behind Hathewiga and was overwhelmed by the smell. He should have been prepared for it. His cousin had always complained about the stench at the zoo. Harry had never been to the zoo, but he imagined this was what it smelt like.

Once he got used to the smell, Harry looked around the shop. There were cats, rats, toads, snakes and strange fluffy animals that bounced around energetically in their cages. The shop was full of people talking loudly in an unintelligible mangle of words. Harry did notice that some voices sounded strange in their pronunciation, especially of the letter "s", as if they were hissing it out. He didn't linger too much on it, though. Perhaps they were foreigners visiting the Alley. Harry was more interested in the side room.

To the side of the main room was another with fewer people. Whereas the first had a great variety of animals, this side room had only one: owls. Barn owls, screech owls, eagle owls, and many more filled the room, hooting in unison from their cages. Harry, however, didn't let the hoots distract him. He had already found the perfect match and wouldn't take his eyes off it.

The source of his attention was a female snowy owl. She was beautiful and regal, looking magnanimously at her surroundings as if she were above the boorish pleb. She would've been the exact copy of Hathewiga if not for her amber eyes that shone with a clever glint. Harry smiled as the owl met his gaze. Somehow, he knew that she was the one.

Hathewiga followed Harry's gaze and laughed when she saw the owl. The resemblance was uncanny.

"What will you call her, Harry? Friend number 2?" she asked teasingly.

Harry scowled at her remark, before smiling wickedly, "I will call her Hedwig. Much less ancient than Hathewiga, don't you think? Less of a mouthful too."

"You're lucky it's your birthday, brat", Hathewiga answered good-naturedly, while paying at the counter.

A few Galleons lighter and a caged owl in hand, the pair decided to celebrate this new addition to their family with a portion of ice cream from a small parlour that had recently moved into the alley. Harry had chosen a salted caramel blondie ice cream and shut his eyes, relishing the rich flavour as it melted on his tongue. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his entire life. Yet, as he opened his eyes, he saw that Hathewiga didn't share his enjoyment and instead was deep in thought.

"Everything ok?" Harry asked, concerned for his friend.

Hathewiga didn't respond for a long time, simply staring at him calculatingly. Having seemingly found what she was looking for, Hathewiga leaned back and opened her mouth.

"Are you up for a heist?"

Harry's predatory grin and eager glint in his eye were the only answers she needed.

"*"
Heyo! How did you like the chapter? It was less plot-centric and was more focussed on fleshing out the characters instead. Now, that the basic introduction to the story has been done, I will try to make the rhythm of the story similar to this chapter. Relatively slow, but without forgetting the storyline. Right now, Harry might seem like a spectator which might seem frustrating for some. But remember, he is only eleven and still very new to this world. Soon, he will be much more autonomous, so don't worry about that. Anyway, thank you all for reading!
Burgundy Phoenix signing off