Authors Note:

POV wise, the Story will have 3 main POV's: Harry, Daphne and Jingles (a magical cat who gets introduced in chapter 2). There will be scenes written from different characters POV's, those will be clearly marked though.

This story focuses on Harry, Daphne and Jingles, while the first two will try to get away from their abusive families, Jingles will try to uncover his mysterious past. Together, the trio will succeed and eventually form the Order of the Black Cat - a secret society which will change the wizarding world forever.

There are romances in this story, and they will be quite prominent. This however is a longfic - a very long one, meaning the romances won't subtract from the plot. There is one F/F pairing in this story, and multiple F/M pairings. Romances will begin in fourth year, but seeds for the pairings are sown much, much earlier. Also not ALL romances start at the same time. There will also be some exploring, meaning that for example Harry's first girlfriend won't necessarily be his final pairing. They will be teenagers at that point, and around that time Harry should become somewhat more confident, so he (and others in his friend group) will explore.

There is no bashing in this story. This is the main reason why I left out Ron. I am not a fan of Ron's character, and he was just too bothersome for me to keep in as a minor/side character. The Weasleys simply have one less child. None of their ages changed. Harry will still befriend them, albeit be it later, and obviously differently as in canon.

Two characters had their ages adjusted:

- Tonks will be one year younger, so that she is in the 1991 – 1992 School Year. She will play a role during the year, and then later again in the story. (This seems to also cause some confusion. Harry Potter Wiki states that she graduated in the 1990-1991 School Year, which would just be before Harry arrived.)

- Astoria will be one year older, so that she joins during the 1992 – 1993 School Year. As the Story has a heavy focus on Daphne, we will of course explore her family.

This Story uses the trope of magical power, to balance out general spell combat. In different classes we will explore different aspects of this. For me this makes more sense then essentially everyone being able to cast any spell at any time. This will also provide sound reasoning as to why in later battles not everyone simply uses Avada Kedavra, as the power cost will be quite high. Of course with the concept of magical power comes also the concepts of magical cores and magical exhaustion, I feel they go hand in hand. These will be used to limit the arsenal of Harry, Daphne and co. while they are younger.

Along this I will also provide descriptions as to how the Fidelius Charms and Trace works in this story, and any other thing I genuinely going to change.

We will also eventually dabble a bit into the powerful Harry trope. But not Dumbledore/Voldemort levels of powerful. He will be an above average Wizard for his given age. It will also be a long journey, while Harry is going to be always somewhat adept with a wand, he will achieve his "powerful" state through training.

Politics will also be a thing, alongside Lordships. All though we won't be calling them "Lord" all the time, only when it's appropriate. E.g. when they talk politics to each other, or write formal letters. This is why in this chapter Daphne's father will be referred to as "Mr. Greengrass" instead of "Lord Greengrass".

Harry will be Lord Potter, and only Lord Potter. No Black, Peverell, etc. Due to this he can't avoid some politics but isn't particularly fond of them. The main political stuff will happen around Daphne, not Harry. But all of this is mostly kept for their later years at Hogwarts. They will also have a mentor, who will teach them lot's of things in regards to politics, so they won't be master politicians by nature.

Finally, Jingles. The black magical cat with blue eyes (the cover image for the story!) holds many mysteries and secrets. This story will put a heavy focus on him, as Harry, Daphne and friends slowly uncover the mysteries surrounding him.

Harry, Daphne and Jingles are the main Characters of this story, hence they are the PoV Characters. There will be a heavy focus on both Daphne and Jingles, as having them around will change Harry's life drastically.

Also since FFN only allows me to tag 4 characters let's go over characters in this story briefly:

Main trio: Harry, Daphne, Jingles

Core friend group: Harry, Daphne, Jingles, Hermione, Tracey, Neville

Other noteable characters: Tonks, Susan, Astoria, Fred, George, Ginny, Luna, Sirius, Remus


Chapter 1 – A friend

The sun hung in the cerulean expanse, casting an iridescent glow over the labyrinth of Diagon Alley. Basking in its bright radiance, Harry and Hagrid emerged from the granite fortress that was Gringotts bank. Harry's pockets jingled with the weight of shimmering Galleons while Hagrid cradled a peculiar package with the tender care of a mother dragon protecting her egg. Their departure from the bank marked the start of a journey through a dazzling world where the mundane and the magical wove together to create a tapestry unlike anything Harry had seen before.

Chiming wind bells announced their entrance into the heart of Diagon Alley, a sprawling array of stores that seemed to stretch endlessly. Shop signs swung merrily in the breeze, their letters shimmering with gold leaf and runes. The air buzzed with the chatter of excitable first-years, the rich scent of aged parchment, mystical herbs, and the occasional peppery tang of magical explosions from Zonko's joke shop.

"Harry," Hagrid began, his rumbling voice cutting through the cacophony. The towering half-giant drew himself to his full height, dwarfing Harry in his shadow. He planted his large hand on Harry's shoulder, casting a warm, reassuring smile towards him. "I'll be takin' ye to Professor McGonagall now. She'll help ye with your school supplies. Can't go startin' Hogwarts without bein' proper equipped, eh?"

Harry nodded, his gaze never leaving Hagrid's. His green eyes shone with unspoken gratitude from behind his round glasses. "Thank you, Hagrid," he answered, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions brewing inside him. The echo of his past life with the Dursleys felt like a bad dream in the face of the magic now stretching out before him. "If it wasn't for you, I'd still be stuck there, ignorant of all this."

Hagrid let out a hearty chuckle, ruffling Harry's untidy hair with a gesture as tender as his giant hands could manage. They began their descent into the belly of the alley, navigating the sea of colourful stalls. Fascinating and bizarre objects filled the stores: crystal balls that whispered of the future, robes that changed colour to match your mood, owls that delivered letters, and books that whispered their tales.

Finally, they arrived at the welcoming façade of 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'. The establishment was a wonder in itself, with large glass windows showcasing mannequins dressed in robes of varying styles and colours, all changing at a dizzying speed.

There, waiting patiently, was a stern, older woman. The severe lines of her face softened by the warm afternoon light. Her greying hair was pulled into a tight bun, her intelligent eyes peering from behind thin spectacles. She stood tall, her emerald-green robes rippling with her every movement, radiating authority – unmistakably, Professor Minerva McGonagall.

Standing by her side was a young girl, a waterfall of bushy brown hair cascading down her shoulders. Her brown eyes were wide with curiosity, soaking in the colours and sounds of Diagon Alley. Upon seeing Harry, her gaze sharpened, a flicker of recognition lighting up her eyes as they fell on his distinctive scar. The first spark of a future friendship ignited, though they were yet to realise it – Hermione Granger.

"Professor McGonagall," Hagrid greeted, bowing politely to the woman. "Harry's here, just as promised." His large, calloused hand gave Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before he crouched down, his beetle-black eyes connecting with Harry's emerald ones. "Now, Harry, yeh be good to the Professor here. She'll be helpin' yeh with the rest of yer school supplies."

Harry nodded, offering Hagrid an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Hagrid. I won't forget this."

"No need to thank me, lad. Just doin' me job," Hagrid replied with a broad smile. Straightening up, he turned back to McGonagall, "Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I've got some business of me own to attend to." With a final wave of his enormous hand, the half-giant sauntered off, his figure quickly disappearing amidst the bustling crowd.

In Hagrid's wake, Professor McGonagall turned to Harry, her stern eyes possessing a subtle warmth. Extending her hand to him in greeting, she introduced herself, "Mr. Potter, I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall. I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Head of Gryffindor House. I am here today to help you and another student with your first-time Hogwarts shopping."

After Harry shook her hand with a smile, she then motioned to the girl standing beside her, "This is Hermione Granger. She, like you, is another first-year student who will be joining us at Hogwarts this year. I thought it would be beneficial for you both to make your preparations together."

Hermione, her eyes wide and bright, extended her hand towards Harry. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry," she said earnestly.

Unlike most people who seemed overly excited or shocked by his name, Hermione merely smiled, her handshake steady and warm. The relief that flooded him was palpable, and he smiled back, "Nice to meet you too, Hermione."

Professor McGonagall, apparently satisfied, clapped her hands together. "Now, let us begin our shopping here," she suggested, her gaze landing on the welcoming entrance of Madam Malkin's. "Your robes will take some time to be tailored, after all." With that, she led the way into the store, Harry and Hermione following closely behind, ready for their magical shopping journey to unfold.

The jingle of the entrance bell echoed in the stillness of the store as Professor McGonagall, Hermione, and Harry stepped across the threshold. The shop, in its absence of customer traffic, was a tranquil haven of industry, a sea of fabric stacked neatly, awaiting transformation.

Around them, the shop was an orchestra of colour, a kaleidoscope of fabrics. Rolls of material sat neatly arranged on wooden shelves that climbed high up the walls. Silks, satins, and velvets in all hues imaginable waited patiently in their stacks. The air was laced with the faint, nostalgic scent of fresh cloth and dye, punctuated by the occasional metallic whisper of a tape measure being drawn or scissors snipping away.

Emerging from a curtained-off area at the back of the store was a plump woman, the gentle rustle of her dress cutting through the silence. Her greying hair was tucked under a frilled bonnet and her round face, etched with years of experience, held a welcoming smile. This was Madam Malkin, a woman whose hands, despite their calloused exterior, held the dexterity born from decades of delicate tailoring work.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall," she greeted warmly, her eyes flicking between Harry and Hermione. "Are these two more Muggleborns to be fitted for their Hogwarts robes?"

McGonagall shook her head subtly, a trace of a smile on her lips. "Not quite, Madam Malkin," she responded, her voice echoing lightly across the quiet expanse. "Meet Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

The name 'Harry Potter' hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken reputation. Madam Malkin's face transformed, her eyes widening in surprise before her features softened into an expression of admiration. "Harry Potter...my, my," she murmured, a warmth clear in her voice. "A pleasure to meet you, dear."

Harry, feeling more than a little uncomfortable and confused under her gaze, nodded politely, shaking her outstretched hand. This unexpected attention was something he was struggling to comprehend, a strange twist in this already bewildering world he was introduced to.

Resuming her professional demeanour, Madam Malkin gestured towards the back of the shop. "Well then, first things first. We need to take your measurements," she announced. "There's another young lady getting fitted at the moment. You can join her."

Upon their entrance into the back room, Harry and Hermione were met with an unusual sight: a blonde-haired girl was standing in the centre of the room, motionless as measuring tapes darted around her, recording her dimensions with a precision that would have been impossible for a human hand. The measuring tapes seemed to move with a mind of their own, dancing around the girl in an elaborate ballet of numbers and lengths.

When the tape measures finally ceased their intricate dance, they floated gently back to a table where a quill was already poised over a piece of parchment, seemingly waiting to jot down the measurements that the tapes had meticulously taken. Harry watched, utterly fascinated by the quill that scribbled away without a guiding hand, documenting the measurements taken by the animated tapes.

Madam Malkin, all business-like efficiency, walked over to the table and plucked the parchment from its surface. Turning towards the blonde girl, she smiled and said, "Excellent, Miss Greengrass." She then gestured towards the front of the store, "You can proceed to select the fabric and design you prefer. I'll be with you shortly."

As the girl passed by them, Harry caught a whiff of a light, floral scent, reminiscent of lavender, that seemed to follow in her wake. Her polite smile offered a glimpse of well-bred manners as she exited the room.

After her departure, Madam Malkin turned her attention to Harry and Hermione. "Right, who's next?" she asked, briskly.

With a hesitant step, Harry moved into the space just vacated by the girl. Instantly, the tapes sprung to life, measuring him in the same flurry of activity as they had the blonde girl earlier. The sense of awe he'd felt at watching magic in action did not dim even as he was at the centre of it.

As the measuring tapes danced around him, the quill at the table was jotting down his measurements as they were taken, a silent testament to the magical efficiency of Madam Malkin's shop. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the spectacle, his initial apprehension gradually giving way to a sense of anticipation. It was yet another taste of the magical world he was now a part of.

Following the completion of Harry's measurements, the tapes fluttered over to Hermione. Under Madam Malkin's watchful eye, they undertook their precise task once again, circling around Hermione with the same calculated precision they had exhibited with the previous two.

Once the tapes had done their dance around Hermione and jotted down her measurements, Madam Malkin turned to both of them, her hands dusting off an imaginary speck of lint on her apron. "Now that we've got your measurements, why don't you two have a look at the different fabrics and designs we've got? I'm sure you'll find something to your liking. If you need any assistance, don't hesitate to ask," she told them, her eyes twinkling behind her spectacles.

She then returned to the front of the store, leaving Harry and Hermione to explore on their own. The moment they stepped into the front area, they found Professor McGonagall engaging in a friendly chat with Madam Malkin. Their voices, interspersed with soft laughter, floated over the counter.

A little further in, they spotted the blonde girl from earlier, engrossed in inspecting a swatch of what looked like rather expensive silk. With a shared glance of agreement, they decided to approach her.

As they neared, Hermione mustered up her courage and introduced herself first, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. You're starting at Hogwarts too, aren't you?" Her voice was slightly shaky, but her eyes were shining with the anticipation of making a new friend.

The petite blonde girl, all sharp angles and icy determination, turned her gaze towards Hermione, the cool blue of her eyes offering a chilling contrast to the warm ambers and emerald hues that adorned the magical clothing around them. With a graceful motion of her hand, she gingerly replaced the rich silk fabric back onto the shelf. Her fingers, ghostly white against the silk's iridescent sheen, seemed to glide over its smooth surface with a sort of respectful care.

"Charmed, Hermione," she responded, her words sliding into the silence of the room with an unexpected gentleness. "I'm Daphne Greengrass." There was a certain firmness to her voice, which hinted at a maturity beyond her years. Her lips curved into a polite, albeit reserved, smile as she added, "And yes, I too will be starting at Hogwarts this year."

As the formal introduction settled in the air, Harry's attention shifted subtly from the conversation. He found his gaze drifting around the peculiar store, taking in the myriad of details that made up its unique charm. His eyes roved over the plush velvet drapes that hung heavily, swaying lightly in the still air, their deep crimson adding a regal touch to the store's interior. His gaze wandered over the myriad of shelves stacked high with fabrics of all conceivable colours and textures, a veritable treasure trove of magical clothing.

With only the four of them present, a serene tranquillity seemed to have claimed the store. A strange thought tickled the back of his mind. "Daphne," he asked, his voice threading its way back into their conversation, "Are you here by yourself?"

Daphne's eyes softened, their usual ice-blue intensity fading momentarily. "Yes," she replied, her voice notably quieter than before. "My father brought me here to have my robes fitted. He had...other business to attend to." Her gaze locked with Harry's, her pristine poise giving way to reveal a hint of vulnerability. There was a certain sadness in her eyes, a shadow of anxiety that flickered across her features, quickly masked by her composed facade.

The interaction sparked a realisation within Harry. He hadn't introduced himself yet. Feeling a bit awkward, he extended his hand towards Daphne, a friendly grin playing on his lips. "I'm Harry," he said, punctuating the silence. "Harry Potter."

The moment Harry announced his name, he prepared himself for the familiar reaction that he had grown accustomed to - shock, surprise, maybe even a touch of awe. But when he looked at Daphne, her icy blue eyes reflected none of that. Instead, an unmistakable flicker of fear darted across her gaze. It was fleeting and vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. She blinked and took a composed breath, her lips curving into a polite yet cautious smile.

"A pleasure to meet you, Harry," she replied, her voice steady but soft. Her hand extended towards his, their palms meeting in a firm but brief handshake.

Just as the pair disengaged their hands, the tinkling bell above the shop's entrance announced the arrival of another customer. A tall figure cloaked in a dark robe swept into the room. His stern gaze scrutinised the shop, before landing with pointed intensity on Daphne. The previously gentle atmosphere of the store was suddenly laced with palpable tension.

"Daphne!" The man's voice was a harsh crack against the quiet hum of the store. "What do you think you're doing?" His voice bore an edge of contempt, hard and cold as ice.

Caught off guard, Daphne visibly stiffened. "Father," she started, her voice quavering slightly under his stern gaze. "I was... I was merely introducing myself, as you taught me to..." Her words hung in the air, a shaky testament to the tense atmosphere.

The man let out a dismissive scoff, waving his hand in a gesture that spoke volumes. "There's no need to introduce yourself to people like these," he declared, the disdain dripping from each word as he gestured vaguely towards Harry and Hermione.

At the sound of his disparaging words, Professor McGonagall and Madam Malkin immediately ceased their conversation, moving towards the escalating situation.

On spotting Professor McGonagall, the man's stern expression seemed to soften just a notch. "Ah, Minerva," he began, a veneer of respect layered over his still gruff voice. "Helping these two Muggleborns with their school supplies, are you?" His voice held a slight emphasis on the word 'Muggleborn', the contempt in his tone leaving no doubt about his feelings towards them. The words hung in the air, stark against the chill silence that had descended over the shop.

"Indeed, Cygnus," McGonagall responded to the man's comment, her voice a steel-edged chime resonating through the stillness of the room. "I am here to guide our new students. All of them, irrespective of their blood status." Her words carried an irrefutable air of authority, leaving no room for debate.

Cygnus turned back to Daphne, his gaze never softening. "Daphne, have you picked your robes yet?" he inquired, his tone more brusque than concerned.

Daphne gave a small, hesitant nod. "Yes, father," she responded, her voice barely audible.

Madam Malkin stepped in smoothly, beckoning Daphne and her father over to the counter. She was a professional, despite the tension, her focus remained on her job.

Daphne had chosen Acromantula silk for her robes. She laid out the shimmering fabric on the counter, revealing its intricate weave. She then pointed to a particular design, its elegant patterns captured in an old sketch. It was a charming blend of tradition and subtlety.

"Well chosen," Madam Malkin remarked, appraising the combination. "The fabric and design are well suited for a young Pureblood lady like yourself, Miss Greengrass." Her compliment, despite sounding genuine, felt slightly forced, like a mollifying gesture towards Mr. Greengrass.

"And how much will this set me back?" Mr. Greengrass inquired, with an air of indifference.

"Five hundred Galleons, Mr. Greengrass," Madam Malkin responded promptly.

Cygnus pulled a small leather pouch from within his cloak and dropped it onto the counter. The heavy thud of gold coins reverberated in the otherwise quiet room. "My house elf will come by later to pick up the robes," he stated, already turning to leave the shop. "Come along, Daphne," he commanded, without sparing another glance at Harry or Hermione.

As Daphne made her way towards the door, she paused and looked over her shoulder at Harry and Hermione. An apologetic smile briefly crossed her face, her icy blue eyes conveying a silent message. Then, she was gone, swallowed by the bustling crowd of Diagon Alley, leaving behind an echo of lavender and a lingering tension.

As the door shut firmly behind the Greengrasses, the store was filled once more with a calm stillness. Madam Malkin, returning from the entrance, sighed and turned to McGonagall. "Normally, robes of that quality cost around Three Hundred Galleons," she confessed, her hands busily tidying up a nearby stack of fabric swatches. "But in cases like Cygnus Greengrass, well, we charge a little extra."

Her gaze softened, her thoughts seemingly straying to the young girl who had just left. "The poor dear didn't seem overly thrilled, did she? Despite all the luxury, I dare say there's a fair bit of sadness in her eyes."

McGonagall, who had been watching the exchange with a stern expression, nodded in agreement. "Indeed," she replied, her voice carrying a note of sympathy. "At least her father provides for her, however, one cannot help but wonder at the cost. I'm afraid Miss Greengrass is bound to be used as political leverage in the near future."

She fell silent, her gaze focused on something far away, her thoughts evidently darker. "It's not surprising, considering Cygnus joined You-Know-Who during the war."

As she finished speaking, she seemed to become aware of the presence of Harry and Hermione. "Apologies," she said, swiftly changing her tone. "This conversation is perhaps not suitable for such young ears. Now, let's get back to our task at hand. Please, pick out your preferred materials and designs for your robes."

Madam Malkin was quick to shift gears, leading them to a display of various materials. "For your winter robes, I recommend manticore fur. It provides excellent warmth, durability, and despite its appearance, it's quite lightweight," she advised, handing them samples to feel. "For your everyday robes, a blend of wool or cashmere would work best. These fabrics offer a good balance between comfort and longevity."

Harry's eyes, however, were drawn to a delicate, iridescent material. "What about Acromantula silk? The one Daphne chose?" he inquired, pointing at the sample.

Madam Malkin gave a nod of understanding. "Ah, Acromantula silk," she began, her eyes sparkling with admiration for the exquisite fabric. "It is one of the finest materials in our world, extraordinarily durable and receptive to enchantments. However," she added, eyeing Harry kindly, "it's not something I would recommend for your first set of robes. Young wizards tend to outgrow their robes rather quickly, and such an investment should ideally last for a significant period of time."

With Madam Malkin's professional advice in mind, Harry found himself reaching for the sample of the wool blend. The material was warm, soft to touch and held a certain understated charm that he found comforting. Hermione, in contrast, opted for the luxuriously soft cashmere blend, her fingers lingering on the fabric appreciatively.

Having made their selections, they proceeded to discuss their preferred designs. They each settled on the standard design: simple yet practical, reflecting the humble and understated charm of Hogwarts' school robes. Madam Malkin nodded approvingly, assuring them that their choices were both excellent and practical for their upcoming academic year.

A quick stop by the counter saw their purchases paid for, their funds significantly reduced but their spirits remaining high. As the last of their coins clinked into the cash drawer, Madam Malkin assured them that their robes would be ready for collection later that day.

With their robes sorted, Harry and Hermione exited Madam Malkin's store, trailing behind Professor McGonagall who was already making her way towards their next destination. Despite the overwhelming new experiences, they both carried an air of excitement and anticipation. There was still so much more to see and learn, and they were more than ready to take their next steps into the magical world.

~~~o~~~

As they manoeuvred through the winding cobblestone streets, Professor McGonagall declared that their next destination would be Ollivander's – a place for wands. The proclamation resonated with a certain significance that caught both Harry and Hermione's attention.

Excitement bubbled up in their chests, lighting up their faces in an almost childlike glee. They shared a knowing glance between them – both aware of the importance of the task at hand. Getting a wand was a monumental step into the wizarding world, a personal and essential tool for a witch or wizard.

Before they knew it, the trio found themselves standing in front of an old, worn-out building with peeling paint and a weathered sign that read "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.". Its age gave it a certain charm that radiated wisdom and history.

Hesitant but eager, they pushed open the door and stepped inside. The shop was dimly lit and silent, a stark contrast to the colourful and bustling Diagon Alley outside. It was filled with shelves upon shelves stacked high with narrow boxes, each box holding a precious wand waiting for its rightful owner.

The wooden floorboards creaked under their weight as they ventured further into the quiet shop, their eyes dancing over the countless boxes with awe and reverence. From the back of the shop, a voice echoed out, breaking the silence. It was soft and gentle, yet held an undertone of authority. "One moment, please. I'll be with you shortly," it said, the words lingering in the quiet shop, bouncing off the old wood and shelves of wands.

The back room curtains rustled as a figure emerged from the shadows. A small man with twinkling, deep-set eyes and an air of dignified curiosity stood before them. He was Mr. Ollivander, the wandmaker. He recognised McGonagall instantly, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile, his eyes holding a glint of fond familiarity.

"Ahhh, Minerva," he greeted, his voice reverberating through the quiet shop. "I presume you've brought me more young wizards and witches in need of a wand?"

"Garrick," Professor McGonagall returned the greeting, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I've brought two students for their first wands," she motioned to the two children standing beside her.

Upon seeing Harry, Mr. Ollivander's eyes lit up with recognition. "I wondered when I'd see the day when Harry Potter came to my shop," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. But instead of showering Harry with unwarranted praises and astonishment, he simply nodded at him and disappeared back into the curtains from whence he came.

The quiet acknowledgement was a refreshing change for Harry. The wizarding world seemed to know him and his name all too well, but for once, his fame did not seem to influence the interaction.

After a few moments, the rustling of the curtains announced Mr. Ollivander's return. He was carrying a box in his hands with a certain care and respect.

While carefully unlatching the box, Mr. Ollivander turned his attention towards Hermione. "And you must be my second customer. What's your name, my dear?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of interest and curiosity.

"My name is Hermione Granger, sir," Hermione introduced herself politely, her voice revealing her excitement. Mr. Ollivander gave a nod of acknowledgement. He then opened the box, revealing a beautifully crafted wand, which he handed to Harry.

Harry looked at the wand, then at Mr. Ollivander, clearly unsure of what to do. Noticing his confusion, Ollivander gently instructed, "Go on, give it a wave."

With a small shrug, Harry waved the wand, and as he did, a whirlwind of chaos ensued. Several boxes flew off the shelves, showering the room with a cloud of dust. With a speed that belied his age, Ollivander was quick to seize the wand back from Harry.

"No, no, no," he muttered, shaking his head, his eyes scanning the mess around them, "Definitely not the one for you, Mr. Potter."

As Harry watched the destruction caused by his wave, his face turned a little pale, but Mr. Ollivander and Professor McGonagall showed no surprise, as if this was a regular occurrence in their line of work. Mr. Ollivander immediately presented another wand, the cycle continued, creating a series of wand-induced messes around the shop.

Each wand seemed to have a unique reaction when placed in Harry's hand, none of them quite right. Some merely twitched, others created small gusts of wind, and one spectacularly burst the lamp on the counter into a flurry of glass shards. Harry immediately laid that wand down with an apologetic glance.

Mr. Ollivander continued to go back and forth, bringing out wands of all different woods and cores, but none of them quite fit. That is, until he approached an old and dusty box, nestled away on one of the higher shelves. He muttered something under his breath, a string of words that Harry and Hermione couldn't quite catch, before he gently removed the box from the shelf.

As he handed Harry the wand from the box, the energy in the room seemed to shift. It was as if the air had become charged, bristling with unseen currents. Harry took the wand, and as soon as his hand closed around the hilt, he could feel it resonating with him, an undeniable connection coursing through his veins.

"Curious..." Mr. Ollivander murmured, his gaze locked onto Harry with a surprising intensity.

"What's curious?" Professor McGonagall asked, stepping closer. "It's clear that this wand has chosen Mr. Potter, despite the reaction being somewhat stronger than usual. But that's not entirely unheard of."

Mr. Ollivander began to explain, "What is curious is that this wand is made from a phoenix feather core. That particular phoenix gave only two feathers. Just one more. And what's most curious is that the only other feather resides in the wand that gave Mr. Potter his scar."

At this, Professor McGonagall gave a small gasp of realisation, "That is indeed quite curious. Fate, it seems, has a peculiar sense of humour."

Mr. Ollivander took a moment to explain to Harry the qualities of the wand he now held. "Holly wood is rare in wandmaking," he began, his voice echoing a sense of reverence, "associated with protection and often considered to possess healing properties." He then turned his attention to the wand's core. "The phoenix feather core, even rarer still, often signifies great magical power. Wands with such a core are capable of a wide range of magic and become fiercely loyal to their owner." Harry, absorbing the wandmaker's words, couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he gripped the wand, sensing the potential within it.

Mr. Ollivander then shifted his attention to Hermione. He moved behind the counter and started picking up and handing different wands to her. For some reason, the same dramatic reactions that Harry's attempts at finding a wand produced didn't occur with Hermione. There were no flying boxes or exploded lamps.

After only a handful of tries, Hermione found her match. Mr. Ollivander smiled, satisfied as he watched the sparks emanating from the wand. The wand was made of vine wood with a dragon heartstring core. Vine wood wands were among the less common types, and they were always among the most special. Dragon heartstring is a powerful wand-core with a lot of magical "heft", producing wands with the most power.

Following their successful matches, Harry and Hermione moved to pay for their wands. They thanked Mr. Ollivander, their voices filled with appreciation. As they stepped out of the shop, they were greeted with the familiar sight of Diagon Alley under the afternoon sun. The air was buzzing with activity, the cobblestone streets filled with wizards and witches of all ages, but for that moment, it felt like the world was their own, filled with endless possibilities. They turned to Professor McGonagall, ready to continue their magical shopping journey.

~~~o~~

Just as Professor McGonagall was about to lead them to their next stop, a familiar, towering figure emerged from the bustling crowd. It was none other than Hagrid, his wild beard giving him away even from a distance.

"Ah, there yeh are, Professor," Hagrid said in his booming voice as he approached them. He turned to face Harry and Hermione, a grin plastered on his face. "Don' mean to hold yeh up long, jus' have a wee surprise for Harry here," he continued, bringing out a cage from behind his back.

Inside the cage was a beautiful snowy owl, her feathers as white as the first snowfall, her eyes sparkling like precious sapphires. She hooted softly at Harry, causing him to gasp in awe. Hagrid presented the cage to Harry, saying, "Happy belated birthday, Harry."

Hagrid then went on to explain, "I thought, once yeh've made some friends," he gestured to the owl, "with the help of Hedwig here yeh'll always be able to write to 'em, wherever they might be."

Harry was speechless, but he managed a wide smile, thanking Hagrid for such a thoughtful gift. As quickly as he had appeared, Hagrid left again, mentioning something about some urgent business that he needed to take care of.

After the giant man had disappeared back into the crowd, Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes wide with curiosity. "When was your birthday, Harry?" she asked.

Harry, still marvelling at the beautiful owl now perched in front of him, replied softly, "Yesterday."

Hermione, in her ever-enthusiastic fashion, allowed her excitement to bubble over at the mention of Harry's birthday. Her hazel eyes sparkled with surprise and warmth, her arms opening to encircle the boy in a heartfelt embrace. "Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, "Happy belated birthday!" Her voice was filled with genuine affection, causing a few stray passersby to turn and smile at the endearing scene.

Harry, on the other hand, was taken aback by this spontaneous outpouring of affection. Having lived his life largely devoid of such interactions, the hug came as a surprise to him. At first, he stood as still as a statue, a deer caught in the headlights. His eyes widened in surprise, and his body stiffened at the unfamiliar sensation of another person's warm embrace.

However, Harry was nothing if not adaptable. A moment later, he found himself relaxing into Hermione's grip, his arms awkwardly patting her on the back in a somewhat clumsy attempt at reciprocation. He managed to muster a heartfelt, "Thanks, Hermione," his words barely audible, but the gratitude in his eyes clear and shining.

From a few steps away, Professor McGonagall watched the scene unfold. As a keen observer, she was quick to notice Harry's surprised reaction to the hug. A wave of confusion washed over her as she wondered why Harry seemed so taken aback by such a simple act of friendship. After all, surely he would have been hugged before?

McGonagall's mind was a flurry of activity as she tried to piece together this new piece of the puzzle that was Harry Potter. Yet, despite her suspicions, she dismissed the idea that his upbringing could be the cause. She knew Harry was brought up by his muggle relatives, and while she had her doubts about their affection for Harry, she refused to believe they would neglect or mistreat him. For now, she put it down to Harry's likely lack of close friendships.

Clearing her throat, she decided to redirect the focus of their day. Her stern voice cut through their moment, bringing their attention back to the task at hand. "We still have quite a lot to accomplish before the day's end," she declared, her tone indicating no room for argument.

With a pointed glance down the bustling alley, she gestured to a shop in the distance. "Our next stop will be Potage's Cauldron Shop. We need to get you both a cauldron for your Potions classes," she said, her gaze shifting between Harry and Hermione. Seeing their confusion, she added with a hint of amusement, "And, it also comes quite handy for carrying books. Quite the dual-purpose item, you see."

With her authoritative yet caring guidance, they set off towards the cauldron shop, leaving behind the hubbub of Ollivander's. The alley was teeming with other magical families, their chatter and laughter filling the air as they went about their shopping. As Harry and Hermione followed Professor McGonagall, they held their new purchases and Harry's new owl, a reminder of their exciting foray into the magical world.

Potage's Cauldron Shop was a quaint establishment that exuded an old-world charm. The scent of iron and magic wafted in the air as Harry, Hermione, and Professor McGonagall stepped inside. They were greeted by rows of gleaming cauldrons, stacked neatly in various sizes and makes.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall, good to see you," a voice rang out from behind the counter. Madam Potage, a round, jovial woman with a quick smile and twinkling eyes, emerged. Her voice was warm, filled with years of experience and a welcoming tone that instantly put them at ease.

With a nod, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, offering her a polite smile. "Madam Potage," she greeted, her eyes wandering over the array of cauldrons on display. "We are here to purchase two standard size two pewter cauldrons."

Madam Potage chuckled lightly, nodding her head in understanding. "The start of a new school year always brings a demand for those," she remarked, her eyes twinkling. Guiding them to the front of the shop, she pointed towards a large stack of neatly arranged pewter cauldrons. "They're right here, dear," she said, addressing Harry and Hermione. "Just pick the ones you fancy."

Harry and Hermione moved forward, each picking up a shiny new cauldron that felt just right. Their choices were simple, yet functional – perfect for their upcoming journey at Hogwarts.

They paid for their purchases, the clink of coins echoing through the shop. As they turned to leave, Madam Potage waved them off with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "Have fun at Hogwarts," she called out warmly, "and make the most of your first year!"

With their new acquisitions in tow, they thanked Madam Potage and left the store, the door chime tinkling behind them. The day was starting to draw to a close, yet their magical shopping spree was far from over.

"Next on our list, we have Flourish and Blotts," Professor McGonagall announced as they navigated through the bustling lanes of Diagon Alley. The mere mention of the bookstore seemed to cause Hermione's face to light up in anticipation. "We need to purchase your school textbooks."

Soon enough, they reached the famed bookstore. The building was tall and sturdy, its wooden frame carrying the faint scent of paper, ink, and magic. As they pushed open the door, they were greeted by a scene of organised chaos. Shelves upon shelves filled with numerous books reached out to the ceiling, and patrons moved busily about, lost in their quest for literary treasures.

Without losing a moment, Professor McGonagall led them through the maze of bookcases towards the clerk's desk. "We require two sets of the first-year textbooks," she told the clerk, a quiet, bespectacled man who gave them an understanding nod and started to gather the necessary books.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked around with wide-eyed fascination, her eyes darting from one book spine to another, undoubtedly wishing to read them all. After a moment, she turned towards Professor McGonagall, her eyes filled with an insatiable curiosity.

"Professor, may we take a look around? Maybe buy some extra books?" she asked, the excitement in her voice nearly palpable.

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. She appreciated Hermione's enthusiasm, her thirst for knowledge. It was heartening to see such keenness in a first-year student. However, their day was running short.

"I'm glad to see your enthusiasm, Miss Granger," she began, placing a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder. "But our time today is rather limited. We still have a few more stops to make. Don't worry though, now that you have your wand, you can always return later and explore to your heart's content."

While the words seemed to slightly deflate Hermione, she nodded understandingly, a determined look on her face. Yes, she would indeed come back and devour these treasures, one book at a time.

As the clerk returned with their books neatly stacked, Professor McGonagall turned her attention back to Harry and Hermione. She held a thoughtful look in her eyes as she regarded the two first-year students.

"I generally recommend a particular book for Muggleborn students," she started, her voice full of sincerity. "It's called 'A Deep Dive into Wizarding Etiquette'. The book thoroughly outlines the different traditions, norms, and values of the wizarding world. It's an excellent guide to help you navigate through your new surroundings."

She then shifted her gaze to Harry, her eyebrows furrowed in contemplation. "Mr. Potter, though you are not technically a Muggleborn, you were raised in the Muggle world. This book might prove just as useful to you."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before nodding in agreement. They had both experienced enough today to understand that the wizarding world was a whole new universe in itself, filled with its unique customs and laws. Any help they could get in understanding this new world was welcome.

Upon their agreement, Professor McGonagall turned to the clerk and instructed him to add a copy of 'A Deep Dive into Wizarding Etiquette' to each of their stacks. The clerk promptly fetched two copies from a nearby shelf and added them to the piles.

After paying for their purchases, Harry and Hermione heeded Professor McGonagall's advice and loaded their books into their cauldrons, turning them into makeshift book carriers. With that, they bid their farewell to the bustling bookstore and once again emerged into the lively thoroughfare of Diagon Alley, ready for the next leg of their magical shopping journey.

~~~o~~~

With their cauldrons now brimming with textbooks, Professor McGonagall rallied her young charges once more. "We're almost done for today, just two more stops ahead of us," she announced. "First, we'll need to visit Amanuensis Quills to get your quills and parchment. Lastly, we'll return to Madam Malkin's to collect your finished robes and purchase trunks for you to carry your belongings. It will make the move to Hogwarts much more comfortable."

It wasn't a long walk to their next destination. Nestled conveniently next to Madam Malkin's, Amanuensis Quills was only a few short steps away from where they currently stood in Diagon Alley. As the trio entered the store, they were greeted by the sight of quills of all shapes, sizes, and colours neatly displayed on the shelves, alongside stacks of pristine parchment and bottles of colourful ink.

The store was a cornucopia of writing instruments, each one unique in its own right. The shopkeeper, a knowledgeable woman with an air of sophistication, educated them about different aspects of a quill. From the flexibility and thickness of the tip to the type of feather used, she shared that each component played a part in the writing experience. Harry and Hermione found themselves fascinated by the variety of feathers used in the quills, ranging from the radiant feathers of Phoenixes to sturdy feathers from Hippogriffs, each with distinct properties affecting how the quill felt and functioned.

Harry and Hermione then set about selecting their quills. Each picked up and tested a few, feeling their weight, inspecting their tips, and even doing a few test strokes on sample parchments laid out for customers. Eventually, they each found a quill they were comfortable with, as well as enough parchment and ink for their needs.

With their selections made, Harry and Hermione made their purchases, thanking the shopkeeper for her assistance and insight. Once they had everything, they followed Professor McGonagall back outside into the bustle of Diagon Alley, ready to complete their final stop for the day.

Returning to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Harry and Hermione found the shopkeeper herself to greet them, her eyes crinkling warmly at the corners as she did so. "Ah, back again, are you?" Madam Malkin inquired, her voice steeped in friendly jest.

They were there for their fitted robes, which she promptly presented. The robes were perfect, each stitch meticulously placed, the fabric creaseless and crisp. The very sight of them invoked a sense of awe in the two first-year students. The reality of going to Hogwarts was becoming increasingly tangible.

Then, it was time to discuss trunks. In a corner of the store, Madam Malkin guided them to an array of different models. Each trunk was unique, varying in size, material, and finish. Her fingers traced along one particular model as she recommended it, a model lightweight yet robust, with an interior so spacious it seemed almost an impossibility.

"You'll fit more than you'd think in this one," Madam Malkin assured them, a spark of pride in her eyes. "Sturdy too, it'll last you all through your Hogwarts years and then some."

Madam Malkin's next words were about enchantments, and at the mere mention of this, Hermione's eyes lit up with curiosity. A keen student already, Hermione was not one to pass up an opportunity for learning.

"What exactly are enchantments, Madam Malkin?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with anticipation.

Madam Malkin looked at Hermione, a soft chuckle escaping her lips at the girl's eagerness. "Well, dear," she began, "think of enchantments as charms that are applied permanently to objects, altering their characteristics in a way that's beneficial to the user."

Her explanation was met with the furrowed brows of Hermione and Harry, their faces a mirror image of confusion. This brought another chuckle from Madam Malkin. "Oh, don't you worry your heads about it. It's advanced stuff, you'll get to it eventually at Hogwarts."

For their trunks, she suggested a simple yet essential set of enchantments. A locking charm tied to their wands, providing a security measure that would allow only the wand's owner to unlock it. Along with it, a Featherlight Charm, one that she explained to a now intrigued Harry would make the contents of the trunk lighter and the trunk itself as well.

"And that, Mr. Potter," Madam Malkin said, turning to Harry, "means you won't be straining your back carrying your schoolbooks."

With their decisions made, Harry and Hermione each purchased their own trunks. Their new acquisitions all found their place within the spacious interior of their trunks.

As they prepared to leave, Harry and Hermione turned to thank Madam Malkin. Their words of gratitude were met with a warm smile, her hands softly clasped together. "It was my pleasure. Do have a wonderful time at Hogwarts," she said, her tone filled with genuine warmth. As they left the shop, she watched them go, her eyes radiating a quiet satisfaction.

Their tasks for the day completed, they stepped out onto the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. The noise of the bustling crowd washed over them, a clear reminder of the magical world they were about to fully immerse themselves in. Their purchases made, their wands and robes acquired, they were ready for Hogwarts.

The path back to the Leaky Cauldron felt both short and long to Harry and Hermione. The cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley bustled with activity as witches and wizards went about their business. But as they stepped back into the warm interior of the pub, the noise from outside was immediately muted.

"Sit here," Professor McGonagall said as she gestured to an empty table. Both Hermione and Harry complied, their eyes scanning the familiar, cosy surroundings. The chatter of patrons filled the air as they nestled into their seats.

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall strode purposefully towards Tom, the pub's barkeeper. Their conversation was quiet and brief, their figures silhouetted against the soft glow of the lanterns adorning the bar.

As Harry watched the pub's patrons, his mind was buzzing with thoughts. The gentle hum of the pub washed over him, stirring emotions he wasn't quite sure how to process.

Returning from her brief conversation with Tom, Professor McGonagall resumed her seat at their table. "I've asked Tom to contact your parents and guardians. They'll be here soon to pick you up," she stated matter-of-factly, adjusting her spectacles slightly.

Harry's heart sank a little at the thought of returning to the Dursleys, but he masked his feelings, focusing instead on the items he'd acquired that day. Across the table, Hermione wore an expression of anticipation.

"But before we part ways, there's one more thing," McGonagall said, her tone taking on an instructive note. She reached into her robe pocket, retrieving two small, glossy tickets which she placed on the table in front of them. They bore the inscription: "Hogwarts Express."

"These are your tickets for the Hogwarts Express," she started, her tone crisp and clear. "The train departs from Platform 9¾ at King's Cross Station on the first of September, at eleven o'clock sharp."

She paused for a moment, allowing them to absorb the information, before explaining, "To reach the platform, you must walk directly at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it. That's very important."

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances before focusing on McGonagall again, nodding in understanding. Excitement flickered in both their eyes, a tangible echo of the anticipation they both felt. The image of walking through a magical barrier and onto a magical train to a magical school left them with a sense of wonderment.

"Do either of you have any further questions?" McGonagall asked, watching their faces for reactions. Her gaze was sharp, yet comforting – the gaze of a teacher, patiently waiting to offer clarity wherever it might be needed.

"No further questions, Professor," Hermione replied promptly, shaking her head. Harry, on the other hand, looked as though he was teetering on the edge of an inquiry. His brow was furrowed, a slight crease appearing between his eyes.

"Professor," he started, his voice hesitant, "about what Mr. Ollivander said..."

Professor McGonagall immediately understood what he was referring to. She leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled in front of her. "Harry," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "I appreciate that you have a great many questions, particularly about what Mr. Ollivander said. However, this isn't the appropriate time or place for that conversation." Her gaze softened a little as she added, "I promise you, we will address your questions when the time is right."

Harry held her gaze for a moment before nodding slowly, his face a mixture of disappointment and understanding. There was a heaviness to his acceptance, but he said nothing more on the matter. McGonagall gave him a brief nod of approval before turning to both of them. "Any other questions?" she asked, but both of them shook their heads.

"Good," she said, standing from her seat. "I've asked Tom to prepare a pot of tea for the two of you. Enjoy, and remember, September first, King's Cross." She gave them a curt nod, her gaze once again displaying that mixture of sternness and warmth.

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said earnestly. Harry echoed her thanks, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. They watched as their guide for the day, the stern but kind witch, swept out of the Leaky Cauldron, her emerald cloak billowing behind her.

The sound of the pub door closing behind her was promptly followed by the arrival of Tom, bearing a tray with two steaming cups of tea. He set them down in front of Harry and Hermione with a friendly nod. "Enjoy, kids," he said, his voice deep and amiable, before retreating behind the counter. Harry and Hermione raised their cups, silently toasting to the start of their magical journey.

As they sipped their tea, Harry and Hermione began to chat amiably about their soon-to-be new home - Hogwarts. Their excitement and curiosity were evident in the questions they posed to each other, their speculations about what awaited them in the coming year. However, Hermione's curiosity soon took a more personal turn.

"Harry," she began, her voice dropping slightly, "why do you think people were reacting so strangely when they heard your name?"

Harry's face fell a bit at the question, his gaze momentarily drifting to his cup of tea. "I don't know," he admitted, shaking his head. "People treat me like I'm some kind of hero, and I can't understand why. I've heard whispers and someone even called me 'The Boy-Who-Lived'." He frowned, his confusion and frustration evident. "I wanted to ask Professor McGonagall about it. She just said we would discuss it later. I think Hagrid also knows, but I barely had time to speak with him."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. There was another question on her mind, one that seemed to weigh on her. "Harry, Professor McGonagall mentioned your guardians," she started, her voice even softer. "Where are your parents?"

A sombre shadow passed over Harry's face, his eyes dimming. "They're dead," he said, his voice quiet. "I thought they died in a car crash, but I guess... they were killed." He didn't look at Hermione as he continued, "My Aunt and Uncle, the people who raised me, are Muggles. They never told me the truth about my parents... or about this world."

Hermione, looking stricken, instinctively reached for Harry's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Harry, that's... that's awful," she managed to say. Harry, unaccustomed to such gestures, stiffened for a moment but didn't pull away. He didn't want to make Hermione uncomfortable, so he held her gaze and gave her a small, grateful smile.

Wanting to lighten the mood, Harry changed the subject. "Hey, Hermione," he began, "how about we meet at King's Cross station on September 1st? Maybe around 10:30? We could board the Hogwarts Express together."

A wide smile spread across Hermione's face at the suggestion. "I'd like that very much, Harry," she responded enthusiastically, their friendly camaraderie rekindled. As they returned to their tea and light-hearted chatter, both kids felt a new sense of comfort and companionship, looking forward to the magical journey they would embark on together.

Moments later, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened, and Hermione's parents walked in, looking a bit bewildered by the distinctly magical atmosphere of the pub. Hermione stood up quickly and, with a final, warm hug to Harry, she told him excitedly, "I can't wait to see you again in a few weeks, Harry!" The wave of her hand was the last thing Harry saw before she and her parents disappeared through the pub's exit.

Left to his own devices, Harry took the opportunity to observe the pub more closely. He watched the array of patrons that filled the room, their animated conversations and outlandish attire feeding his curiosity. He saw wizards and witches of various ages and styles, all engaged in their own little worlds, barely noticing him amidst their magical chatter.

His observation session lasted for nearly an hour, before the pub door creaked open yet again. The boisterous voice that echoed through the room instantly made Harry's heart sink. "Hurry up, boy!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, and Harry could feel the attention of many patrons shift towards them. His cheeks reddened slightly, but he got up, retrieved his trunk and quickly followed his uncle out of the pub.

The trunk was neatly placed in the boot of Uncle Vernon's car, and Harry clambered into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the pub and the magical world he'd just had a glimpse of, a sense of longing welled up inside Harry. Looking at the ticket for the Hogwarts Express clutched in his hand, Harry wished fervently that time would fly by until the first of September, when he could return to this world and start his journey at Hogwarts.