You pulled the yellow parchment out of the envelope again, trying to make a mental list of what you need for your first year classes.

The must from the Parchment hits you immediately, similar to when you open a very old book and catch a whiff of the smelly old paper. Though, it's overwhelming smell gives you a sense of Nostalgia, reminding you of your brother's large library of unkempt books and the late nights he stayed up examining every pore of every page, trying to identify something you're not quite sure of.

You look down at the paper, shaking away the Nostalgic thoughts.

The Parchment reads out as so:

UNIFORM:

1. Three sets of plain Work Robes (Black)

2. One plain pointed hat (Black) for day wear.

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

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS:

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

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

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

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

OTHER EQUIPMENT

One wand

One cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

One set of glass or crystal phials

One telescope set

One brass scale

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

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS.

You sigh loudly, folding the Parchment paper into a square before placing it into the Envelope beside your Hogwarts Entrance letter. You slide the Envelope into your plain blue jeans' back pocket easily.

You were late to accept the Hogwarts invitation, so late to accept the invitation in fact that someone would have to accompany you to Hogwarts; since everyone else had already left. Luckily, you were only slightly behind schedule.

A quick glance of your surroundings reveals multiple stories lining the right and left of you. You had entered here from a turn near the exit of the subway, this was the supposed spot you were going to meet the person who would guide you to your materials.

You hear loud footsteps from behind you, sounding as though it were from a large man. Instinctively, you swing around, hands prepared for a fight.

A large man, with a dark brown straggling beard that nearly connects with his mustache stands in front of you; he wears a robe, similar to what you'd imagine a wizard would wear. Beside him is a young boy, with short kempt hair. His eyes gaze at you through his small Scholarly glasses, brimming with intelligence and undeniable power.

The man looks at you, surprised at your hand movements, he looks almost unsure of what they mean. You doubt he's had very much practice fighting with someone physically. Though, the other boy seems to understand your hand movement instantly, but he does seem surprised that you'd do it on instinct.

The man snickers loudly and clasps you on your shoulder, dragging you down the large path of pavement. You follow close behind as the Crowd separates by the mere presence of the man. "Sorry I'm late, Harry's predicament was quite the trouble." He says, beginning to grin. His right hand carries a large umbrella.

"Who's harry?" You ask.

The boy perks up, "Hello there, I'm Harry." He answers, a small smile on his face.

"Hello," You respond, nodding.

The man leads you two down the pavement until he stops in front of a store on your right.

"This is it," says the man, coming to a halt, "The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It's a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If the man hadn't pointed it out, you wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, you think the three of you are the only ones who can see it. You don't get to think much more about it before the man steers the two of you inside.

Your nose is assaulted by the smell of smoke and Alcohol, in fact, you think you can make out two people sitting in a dark corner of the Pub. Sipping an alcoholic beverage as one of them smokes on a long pipe.

There had been a loud buzz of chatter as you entered the Pub with the man but it seemed to quiet down almost instantly. People waved at him and sent sly grins across the pub at him. The bartender, a short stocky man with a bald head reaches behind the dark oak for a glass. "The usual hagrid?" He questions, one eye looking at him, the other at the two of you.

"Can't Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business with Young Y/N and Harry." Hagrid replies excitedly, he smacks your back roughly, sending pain streaking up and down your back. That's probably going to be a bruise Tomorrow.

The pub goes silent again, this time, you can feel everyone's eyes turn towards you and Harry. It's an irregular feeling for you, almost always being avoided, by your parents, by everyone. Your brother seemed to be the only one who cared for you, his disappearance had shocked you to your core and you hated him for leaving you alone to fend for yourself.

"Bless my soul." Murmurs the bartender, his eyes gazing at the two of you with immense admiration. "Y/N L/N and Harry Potter.. what an honor." He hurries out from behind the bar and clasps both of your hands, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Welcome back boys, welcome back."

Your ears began to hurt as all of the chairs began to scrape against the floor; everyone had gotten up and began shaking you and Harry's hands.

"Such an honor Y/N.. such an honor."

"Your brother was such a kind and gentle boy." A female says, you turn to try and question her but she fades into the crowd of people trying to shake your hand.

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- now I'm all a flutter." Another woman says, the shaking of hands begins to stop and a pale, tall figure approaches the three of you. His left eye twitches and carries himself nervously.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid says excitedly, Hagrid turns to look at you and Harry who've taken a place behind him, significantly slowed down by the people who wanted to shake your hand. "Harry, Y/N, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts." Hagrid adds.

"Y-Y/N, H-H-Harry, I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you." Stammers Professor Quirrell,

You look up at the man and his gaze shifts away slightly and he almost looks afraid, "What exactly do you teach?" You ask, continuing to gaze at the man.

"D-D-Defense against the D-Dark arts," He mutters, "Not that you'll need it, eh, Y-Y/N?" He laughs nervously, finally bringing his gaze back to yours. "You'll both be G-Getting your equipment I suppose? I-I-I've got to pick up a new b-book on V-V-Vampires myself." He adds, his gaze turning to the ground, he looks almost terrified at the thought.

"Well Professor Quirrell, we must be getting on -- lots ter buy." Hagrid says, his accented voice bellowing through the Pub. Hagrid leads you through the club and out a small, rectangular walled courtyard. There's nothing but a small gray trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grins at the both of you over his shoulder, "Told yeh didn't I Harry? Yeh both famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- Mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Why am I famous?" You question,

"Same here! Why?!" Harry adds, Hagrid doesn't answer instead he eyes the cobblestones on the wall, "One.. left.. three.. stand back boys.." He says, you both step back instinctively.

He touches the Bricked wall with his umbrella, The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggles -- in the middle, a small hole appears -- it grows wider and wider -- a second later you three are facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. The street is filled with people, most were wearing all types of clothes similar to Wizards and scholars. There were even a few children running around the large cobbled street.

"Welcome," Hagrid says calmly, "to Diagon Alley. "

You gaze in amazement, as does Harry, Hagrid looks over his shoulder and grins at your amazement before stepping into Diagon Alley.

You follow him and look back towards the archway just in time to catch it closing back, similar to the way it looked when you first stood in front of it.

The sun shines brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes -- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," Hagrid Says, "but we gotta get yer money first."

You wish you had about eight more eyes, your eyes turn in every direction as you three walk up the street, trying to examine everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about your age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," You hear one of them say, "The new Nimbus Two Thousand, the fastest ever." There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments you had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.

You had reached a snow white building that stood above all the other shops. Standing beside its dark bronze doors wearing a uniform of red and gold was a...

"Goblins.." Hagrid whispers quietly to the two of you, you walk up the large steps quickly. Glad to be off the crowded street.

As you walk up the steps you examine the goblin, it was about a head shorter than you. Having a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and very long fingers and feet. He bowed as you walked inside. Now you were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Hagrid looks over as you examine the words, "Like I said, ye'd be mad to try and rob it." He says.

Two Goblins, similar to the one before bow as they open the giant, heavy silver doors. Inside, hundreds of Goblins sit on stools weighing gold and other things, talking to Wizards and witches similar to Hagrid and the ones on the street. Multiple doors are placed throughout the large marbled room, leading somewhere. A few other Goblins lead people in and out of the hall.

The three of you walk towards the counter cautiously, shooting glances at almost every Goblin and person.

"Morning," Hagrid says to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's and Mr. Y/N safe."

"You have their key, sir?" The Goblin questions, looking down at the two of you.

"Yes, of course." He responds, digging into his back pocket. He continues digging for a moment until he pulls out two dirt coated silver keys and slides them on the counter towards the Goblin. You watch as Harry gazes towards a large pile of Rubies the size of three books being weighed nearby.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid says, importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen. "

Hagrid reaches into his right pocket again and pulls out a large white letter, he hands it over to the goblin, the goblin unfolds it and begins to read it carefully.

"Very well," he responds, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was another goblin. You, Hagrid, and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asks.

"Can't tell yeh that," Hagrid responds mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

Griphook held the door open for the three of you, as the door opens your immediately surprised. You expected more marble, you were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor at the end. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward you. The four of you climbed inside with almost no difficulty; at least for you, not for Hagrid.

Your face is assaulted by the cold as the cart flies through all types of different tunnels, left, left, right, left. Finally, the cart stopped beside two small doors in the passage wall. You three clambered out as Griphook began to unlock the doors, he unlocked the right one then the left.

"The one on the left is Mr. L/N's the right is Mr. Potter's." Says Griphook, stepping back from the doors. You watch as green smoke floods from the doors. You step towards the left and gasp loudly, Harry also does the same. Inside are mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver and Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," yells Hagrid from Harry's chamber.

You find a large bag near the mound of money. You grab it and begin sliding some of the money inside of it, you doubt you'll be needing all of it. You hear footsteps behind you and look behind. Hagrid and Harry stand behind you, Hagrid holds a bag full of gold, silver and Knuts. If you had to make a guess it would be Harry's.

"Alright, that's enough for a wand and should last you a few terms.." Hagrid says, he stops beside you and grabs the bag with his free hand.

"Alright let's go to Seven hundred and thirteen please." Hagrid says, you get up and walk back towards the cart and clamber inside once again. Griphook climbs in last and the cart starts up again.

The air became colder and colder as you round tight corners. You went rattling over an underground ravine, once, Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the back of his neck.

The cart stops at a passage on the wall, the large numbers engraved above it shine lightly. Seven hundred and thirteen doesn't have a keyhole. Instead, Griphook rubs the door with his long fingers and it simply fades away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," Griphook says to no one in particular.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asks.

"About once every ten years," Griphook responds with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault. You're sure, you lean forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least, but at first you thought it was empty. Then you notice a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picks it up and tucks it deep inside his coat. You wanted to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," Hagrid says.

One wild cart ride later the three of you stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. You didn't know where to run first now that you had a bag full of money. You didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that you were holding more money than you'd had in your whole life, more money then his parents had ever had.

Did your brother leave this all to you?

"Might as well get yer uniform," Hagrid says, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, would yeh boys mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and you entered Madam Malkin's shop, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she questions, when you were about to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact." She adds,

Madam Malkin leads you both to the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him and slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length. You watched with Mild interest, hoping the Robes material wouldn't make your body itch when it was your time to be fitted.

"Hello," Says the boy, "Hogwarts, too?" He questions,

"Yes," Harry replies.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," The boys says. He has a bored voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to take a look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully my father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. "

The boy reminded you of a bully or someone that'd try to make you submit to them.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," Harry says again,

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry says again, what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll both be in yet?"

"No," Harry says, what are houses? Hagrid didn't explain that.

"No, I hope it's a good one." You respond hopefully.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" He questions.

"Mmm," Harry says.

"Eh, maybe, depending on the people in and if I could leave." You answer.

"I say, look at that man!" The boy says suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at the two of you while pointing at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," You say. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," The boy replys. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," You answer, you don't quite like this boy's attitude.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed. "

"I think he's brilliant," You say, watching as Harry looks between you and the boy.

"Do you?" He replies, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're at home," You say shortly. You didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," He replies, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean. "

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before you could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," Harry hops off the footstool and you clamber onto it. You watch as the boy talks with the lady in a whisper before going to the front office.

You quickly make sure the lady finishes with your outfit, before making your way out to the front office and out of the front door.

Hagrid eyes you wearily, "What's bothering you?" He questions as Harry exits the shop.

He hands you an ice cream cone with Vanilla, and hands a chocolate one to Harry before licking his own strawberry ice cream cone.

"That boy! I don't like him, not one bit!" You say, gazing down Diagon Alley.

"Care to elaborate?" Hagrid questions, finishing his own ice cream cone. You shake your head lightly, and he leaves yourself to your own thoughts as you lick the ice cream cone.

Once you finished your tasty treat, Hagrid leads you to Parchment and quills. Harry and you both cheered up a bit when you found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When the three of you had left the shop, Harry questioned Hagrid, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh both know about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," Harry says, Hagrid listens patiently as Harry begins to tell him about the Pale boy you met in the shop, you hadn't even realized Harry cared.

"-- and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in--"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh both. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?" You question, gazing at the man.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules. "

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" Harry asks.

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but--"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Harry says gloomily.

"Personally, I like the name." You add, grinning slightly.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."

"Yeah.." You say, the conversation ends.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry and you buy a solid gold Cauldron but you got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then you visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry and you, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop) while you looked around at the pictures hanging on the walls.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked a list from his back pocket.

"Just yer wand left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present. "

"I didn't even realize it was his birthday, happy birthday Harry!" You exclaim,

You watch as Harry goes bright red.

"You don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get ye both an 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 ye an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, you three left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. You carried an Owl of similar color, though it wasn't asleep, it was sitting perched up, watching cautiously. You and Harry don't stop stammering your thanks, even as you exit.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now -- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand. "

A magic wand... that's what you're really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as you stepped inside. It's a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. You feel strange as though you had entered a very strict library; you swallow a lot of new questions that had just occurred to you and look instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of your neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry and you jump in surprise, Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before you, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry says awkwardly.

"Indeed, Hello Sir!" You say, grinning.

"Ah yes," The man says. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter and Y/N." It wasn't a question. "Harry has your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." The man turns towards you, gazing into your eyes. "You have your brother's eyes, kind and gentle but expecting anything. I remember when he first walked into here, holding onto a picture of you when you were this tall." He says, hovering his hand slightly below your waist if you were standing up.

He stops speaking and turns towards Hagrid, "Hagrid! How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," Hagrid answers.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" Mr. Ollivander questions, suddenly stern.

"Er -- yes, they did, yes," Hagrid replies, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he adds brightly.

"But you don't use them?" Mr. Ollivander says sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid says quickly. You barely notice he grips his pink umbrella very tightly as he speaks.

"Hmmm," Mr. Ollivander says, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now -- Mr. Potter, and Mr. L/N Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er -- well, I'm right-handed," Harry responds.

"I'm also right handed." You add.

"Hold out your arm. That's it. " He measures you and Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round your head. As he measures, he says, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. 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. "

You very suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between your nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he says, and the tape measure crumbles into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave. "

Harry takes the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatches it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try--"

Harry tries -- but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no -- here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out. "

Harry tries. And tries. You nor him had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"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. "

Harry took the wand and cut downward with it, a flood of bright blue sparkles flew out but disappeared before it hit the floor.

"Bravo Harry!" Hagrid exclaims.

"Nice job," You say, waiting for your turn.

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious. . . curious. . .

"Sorry," Harry says, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

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

Harry swallows.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great. Alright... Mr. Y/N, last but not least."

"Lets try with Harry's previous ones shall we?" He asks, picking up one from the table.

Mr. Ollivander gives you every Wand Harry previously tried until he has to reach for a new one, he grabs one box off of the top shelf, it almost looks dusty.

He takes it out of its box and it's dark oak instantly catches your eye. It's quite large, similar to Harry's in size but not looks.

"Fourteen inches, Phoenix feather and Maple, quite powerful but also quite old, might not even work." He says, shrugging.

You take it in hand and feel a sudden warmth in your fingers. You raise the wand above his head, and bring it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shoot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... How curious... How very curious..." Mr. Ollivander mutters to himself, if he gave you an answer like he did Harry you doubt you'd want the Wand with the way he's acting.

You watch as Harry shivers. You're not quite sure whether or not he liked Mr. Ollivander. Both you and Harry pay seven gold Galleons for your wand. The three of you exit, you and Harry carrying your Owls in hand.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, You, Harry and Hagrid made your way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as you walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at you and him on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. While yours continued to sit upright, eyeing everything. You three went Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," He says to you and Harry.

He bought Harry and you a hamburger and sat down with you both on plastic seats to eat. Harry kept looking around. As you look around as well, you begin to wonder what exactly you planned on doing before you got the Hogwarts invitation, it all seems so distant now.

"You all right, kids? Yer very quiet," Hagrid questions.

You chew the hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks We're special," Harry says, "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I- We don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We're famous and can't even remember we're famous for. I don't know what happened the night my parents died. "

Hagrid leans across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, the both of you will learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself and stick close with each other. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact. "

With that, Hagrid helped Harry and you on to the train that would take you back to your terrible home and Harry back to the Dursleys then handed you both an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " He says. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, or your parents Y/N, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. . . See yeh soon."

The train pulled out of the station. You wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight but you know it'd just be sadder to see him go again. Harry rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but sat back down soon after.

You lean back in your seat, your Owl sitting beside you in its cage, dead asleep, and close your eyes. Waiting for the train ride to end.

You're going to Hogwarts.