Harry woke relatively early that morning, but showed no signs of being awake, except perhaps slightly faster breathing. His eyes remained closed as his brain was trying to rationalize what had happened the night before.

"It was a dream," he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my own bed. Dad will come to wake me to go... shopping or something boring as that..."

There was suddenly a loud and strange tapping noise.

There's John now, coming to wake him to get ready for the day or to come for breakfast. Still, he felt unusually tired this morning.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and felt the sunlight begin to hit him in his eyes as he grabbed his glasses. How late had John let his sleep in? Not to mention why wasn't the blind closed. He swept away the groggy feelings and looked around. He should have known it wasn't a dream, after all it wasn't like his brain to dwell on fanciful ways.

Harry made no sign of hurry as he stood. Confusion still swept over him unlike anything else he could experience. How could a whole society go unnoticed. Did Mycroft know about magic and sorcery being real? Harry began to wonder if Mycroft knew about Harry's supposed life before his aunt and uncle.

Before Sherlock.

If so the man had made no mention of it, and had hid it remarkably well. While Harry did have moments of weird things befalling him, it hadn't happened around Mycroft. Why? He wasn't too sure, suppose he was generally calm around Mycroft. It did seem to spike with emotions.

Still, as he peered at the owl, all he could ponder was how strange this all was. He turned to Sherlock, who looked still very almost... upset by the whole thing. He had come to terms the night before it had seemed, but now, the man seemed to be taking in full affect of what was happened and what the previous night had brought.

John opened the window, seemingly with intent on shooing the bird away, only for the large owl to swoop right in and drop a newspaper it seems directly onto Hagrid's form, before attacking the discarded coat which rested on the floor beside the couch.

"Mr. Hagrid? Your owl-"

"He ain't mine, pay him." Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?" John questioned.

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags...finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Of course, because he needs to supposed his owl family and pay his owl bills." Harry muttered sarcastically, the owl looking on at him as if he should know what to do.

"What're ye mumblin' about?" Hagrid groaned, clearly starting to wake up more fully.

"How much do I give the owl?" Harry asked, a little more exasperated then he meant to.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Which are?" Harry resisted the urge to groan as he spoke. While Sherlock wouldn't have a problem with his tone, John would certainly give him an earful.

"The little bronze ones." Harry sighed in relief of finally knowing something, before passing off the coins to the predatory bird as the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Without another moment, the owl had disappeared out the window from which it came.

Harry didn't even have one moment of getting to pretend this was all normal, or process everything, before Hagrid rose from his place.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be Off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He was examining them as if they held the key evidence to all of this... magical... stuff. FInally after finding what little information he could from these coins he returned them to the pocket which they had originated.

"Hang on, if you operate on a different currency then us, what's the conversion rate?" John asked, as Sherlock grabbed is coat and chucked John's to him.

"Wha-?"

"Not to mention how much is this all going to cost. Not that we can't afford it, but we do try to keep things reasonable." John added. He had always been the most concerned about the group's spending.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think 'is parents didn't leave him anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed --"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us isGringotts. Wizards' bank. You lot keep yer pounds and what not in a bank, right?"

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

John nearly dropped Harry's coat as he was passing it to him.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah -- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o'fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you gettin' things from Gringotts --knows he can trust me, see."

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

The group followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Sherlock had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying, Sherlock and John seemed to be doing the same.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving them all another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"I don't see why I would." said Harry, admittedly eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Sherlock asked, finally speaking. It was no surprise to any of them- save maybe Hagrid- that Sherlock would be most interested in that aspect.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles underLondon, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' terget out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Sherlock seemed to go deep in though, thinking on this. Harry could practically see the man's mind working. No doubt Sherlock would be extremely interested in this.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" John asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, O' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" Harry asked, was this a secondary government? Or was it like a the ministry of transportation? Harry found himself unable to hold his distaste for so much unknown yet seemingly important information.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country." The more Harry thought about it the more it made sense.

"I suppose if everyone knew about magic, everyone would wish for magical solutions to even the most mundane of problems." Harry deduced.

"Yer quite clever, aren't ye." Hagrid said as if proud of him. This Harry supposed was because the man knew his parents -His birth parents, rather- and felt happy for them in some way.

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbour wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street. Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like

parking meters and saying loudly,

"See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

Sherlock seemed to be off in his mind palace, as if trying to ignore it all or search for evidence of magic existing that he may have missed before. His lips quirked slightly in what Harry could only guess was him remembering the zoo incident. John on the other was constantly trying to reel in the friendly giant.

"You keep speaking of your people as if this secret must be guarded at all times, and yet you walk and talk like you've never been in public before." John's voice was an agitated whisper. A voice Harry usually associated with him talking to Sherlock.

"Quite the mother hen this one, eh Harry?" Hagrid asked with a smirk and was met with the rolling of Harry's eyes, although a small smirk did play on the boy's lips.

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "Did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?" This notion sounded like an incredibly bad idea.

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to John so he could buy their tickets. John had no trouble, quite obviously, and handed some back to Hagrid.

"What's this?" Hagrid seemed confused at being given money back.

"I paid for Sherlock and I, I let you pay for Harry, it seemed like it might be important to you." John shrugged, before having the wind knocked out of him as Hagrid clapped him on the back.

"You're alright Doct'r Watson!" Hagrid boasted loudly. They were drawing attention again. All Harry could do was shake his head.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket. "Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night

before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for 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 Emetic 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

wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set

glass or crystal phials

telescope set

brass scales

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

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED

THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Harry lived in London. he had lived there since he was taken in. He thought he knew the area better then most people, yet Hagrid's words implied there was much more to the city then he realized. It was kind of exciting to be honest. A whole new world to discover and explore.

Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an

ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and his family had to do was keep close behind him. They passed usual book shops and music stores, familiar restaurants and cinemas, but in all his time in these areas he had never seen a place that would sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Everything this man spoke was odd, and he couldn't help but feel Sherlock and John were just as suspicious as he was. Still, there was something about this man that told Harry Hagrid believed what he said, whether or not it was real was another story.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry likely wouldn't have paid it much thought. Pubs were rarely important unless a murder had occurred, and even then, rarely was the pub itself important, just the events that occurred. There were people hurrying by, but 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, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Even John and Sherlock seemed to be missing the building, which was odd, especially for Sherlock. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside. He gripped onto Sherlock and John's hands. To an outsider it may look like a nervous child clinging onto his fathers' arms, but Sherlock and John would know it was because Harry knew something was up.

For a supposedly famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few gossiping old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe, probably a habit picked up from having an estranged relationship with her father. Some odd staining on her hands suggested perhaps a writer, and the long running indent on her finger partnered with the amount of makeup she wore told him that she was likely cheating on her husband, or trying to anyways. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. It appeared everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and nearly making Harry's knees buckle. John moved to steady Harry like the mother bird John always seemed to be. An endearing feature to him, but he knew less so in Sherlock's eyes.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is this -- can this be —?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. He heard a groan come from behind him. Of course Sherlock would be recognized. He was a famous detective. He imagined even these magical people had heard of the crimes he had solved. Sherlock made the papers every week. Harry went to step out of the way when...

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honor." Now Harry was confused. Him? He knew he was the son of this famous detective, but generally speaking, Sherlock and John kept him out of the lime light for his own protection. It was for the best, kept everyone safe. So how did all of these people seem to know who he was. For the first time in as long as Harry could remember, he felt nervous.

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

John's hands landed on Harry's shoulders, and Harry could feel both John and Sherlock's natural protective nature set in. Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron. He barely had a moment to feel John's grip tighten a bit, ready to drag Harry away if things got to be too much.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus

Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

"Alright Alright! Enough!" John yelled, clearly having enough, and frankly so was Harry. "He's not some object or circus animal for you to gawk at, he's an eleven year old boy! Now show some restraint!" John snapped at the lot, and Harry held back a laugh. He even noticed Sherlock smirk. He was pretty sure he secretly liked it when John took control like that.

"Oi! Who the bloody hell are you?!" One of the patrons snapped. "What gives you the right?!" The drunk seeming man demanded.

"I'm his father!" John yelled again. The immediate silence following was deafening. One could hear a pin drop.

"You 're a sick fellow playing that game! Why I autta-"

"Oh for pete sake, not that father! My partner and I adopted Harry when he was two from a rather unpleasant situation. We didn't even know about his birth parents until today, so would you knock it off?" John's tone was growing more and more exhausted.

"Oh! My apologies Mr..." The man carried on, expecting John to fill in.

"I am Doctor John Watson, and this is Sherlock Holmes. We are Harry Potter's legal guardians and any more of this mess needs to be cleared with us first." John said with a confident nod.

"You're a good man Mr. Doctor, and you and your partner are very brave, loving who you want, and not letting anyone stop ye!" The man yelled, nearly falling over. John's face turned beat red.

"Oh! No! Not like that! Business partner! Sherlock and I work together and are room mates but nothing more, separate rooms and all." John defended and the man just laughed. "Whatever ye say Mr. Doctor."

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. John initially gave the man a soft glare, relaxing when Hagrid seemed to recognize the man.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" Sherlock asked, stepping forward and leaning towards the man closely. His eyes were squinted, trying to analyze the man, but the twitch in Sherlock's brow showed he was struggling getting a definite reading. Harry felt a bit unsettled by that. Maybe it was the magic getting to Sherlock's head, but Harry moved a slight bit closer to his parents. If Sherlock couldn't get a read on the man, Harry wasn't sure he was ready to trust him.

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. Each of them though looked to John and Sherlock first to make sure it was okay, before offering their hand to Harry to shake. No one grabbed his hand again after John threatened to break one man's arm. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry, John, Sherlock."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds. Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience.... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can. Not to mention Harry started thinking about what Hagrid said. if this man was so afraid, why didn't he leave this job? Surely there were other jobs within the world of wizardry that were calmer. Something in general seemed off about that man, and Sherlock's look was all he needed to feel like his thoughts were validated.

"Three up... two across he muttered. "Right, stand back, everyone."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at the group's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder past John and Sherlock and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall. He immediately went to the wall, trying to find a crack or evidence of what had happened, but it was solid. He felt like this was a dream, where the laws of reality and physics no longer mattered.

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

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

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes, which was a thought his mind didn't usually conjure. However with this almost feeling like a dream, he had expected it to happen. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at 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. He spared a quick glimpse at John and Sherlock. John was taking this surprisingly well, like all of his childhood dreams had come true. Sherlock on the other hand looked... confused and afraid. He stepped closer to Sherlock and tugged on the man's coat to get his attention. "Are you alright?" Harry asked, concern rang clear in his voice and Sherlock gave him a half hearted glare, making Harry smile a cheeky smile. Sherlock hated sympathy, but it often worked to get what you wanted out of him.

"Do you think Mycroft knows? About all of this?" Sherlock asked, gesturing wildly. Harry's smile only grew. "I have to say, the more I think about it, the more I don't think so. Think abut it, if my life and my parents are so well known here, what would he gain from hiding my parentage from us? If anything he probably would have made sure everyone knew he was connected to me a lot sooner." Harry said and Sherlock smirked.

"It is kind of fun knowing something he doesn't" Sherlock whispered.

"Then I say we keep it that way." Harry grinned.

"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 Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever --" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion

bottles, globes of the moon....

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. It looked quite unlike any bank he had ever seen. It didn't even look structurally sound. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly, and John was quite surprised by this. Sherlock looked at the goblin with great scrutiny as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside, Sherlock ducking down to the creature's level, analyzing the now somewhat frightened goblin's face. Now they 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.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

"Ugh, robbery, such a boring crime. Harry, if you ever go into robbery I'm disowning you." Sherlock said and John shook his head in exasperation, chuckling a bit.

"Right, only interesting crimes like serial murders or domestic terrorism." Harry said with a smirk and Hagrid sputtered, looking at the group with wide eyes. John cleared his throat in embarrassment. "They're kidding."

Hagrid seemed rather unsettled by that, but it faded over time, and he once again seemed much more relaxed.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses.

There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big asglowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

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

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have Someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!" Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he 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 asked.

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

This of coursed peaked Harry's curiosity. He could be a bit insatiable when it came to this sort of thing. Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was somewhat surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty, and john offered to stay behind and wait outside -- and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering. Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see what it was and what it came from, but too late - - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

He turned to Hagrid to ask him a question when he noticed how green the man giant looked. "Are you alright Hagrid?" Harry asked, both concerned for their new friend, and concern what someone that big would throw up, and how much

"Don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick." Hagrid said and Harry just nodded. He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All Harry's -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. Mycroft likely didn't know either, not that it would have mattered, but as Harry's guardians, John and Sherlock would likely have been entitled to use it for Harry. It made Harry a bit uncomfortable though. His whole life was nothing like he thought it was. Sure weird stuff happened that made the magical aspect more believable, but it wasn't just about that. Harry had a whole background he knew nothing about. it was unsettling.He felt Sherlock's hand on his shoulder before Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now,

please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and 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 scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through

the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

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

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin, which seemed to make Sherlock smirk at the idea. Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and heheld back any display of eagerness, expecting to see fabulous artifacts or something clearly important at the very least -- but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. Perhaps later. He knew he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.

"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," said Hagrid. He could see Sherlock's face was back to it's normal stoic appearance, save the curled corners of his mouth. It was rare to see Sherlock smile so much, it was kind of fun.

One nearly disastrously wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had. He couldn't help it, the thought made him smile a bit.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, would you all 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.

"Are you alright Hagrid?" John asked concerned, ready to go into doctor mode if it was anything serious.

"I'm alright Doct'r, Jus' need som'thin' to settle me stomach." Hagrid replied so Harry, John and Sherlock waved off Hagrid and entered Madam Malkin's shop. Sherlock held his normal disposition, John seemed to be relieved it was something as simple as clothes, and Harry was intrigued about what the uniform would look like.

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

"Hogwarts, clear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In 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) slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street

looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley, or at least the little he remembered of his cousin.

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

"No," said Harry, his tone rather bored and distant.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering 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 be in yet?"

"Not yet" said Harry, feeling like this boy was growing more stupid by the minute.

"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?"

"Mmm," said Harry, distantly. This boy was annoying. It was also a bit annoying Harry didn't know much about what he was talking about. Harry didn't like not knowing.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at a mess of large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

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

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry, again his voice showed little interest in this conversation. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"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."

"Really? Fascinating." said Harry coldly. "You know all of this how exactly?" Harry added with a raised eyebrow.

"Like I said, I heard it." He said

"You know, "False confessions have figured in 24 percent of approximately 289 convictions reversed by DNA evidence." Harry stated, catching the kid off guard.

"What?" The arrogant idiot asked lamely.
"Human memory is faulty at best, mix that into the mess that is lies, corruptions, distaste, and other factors that might cause someone to say negative things on a person, and you have what is known as word of mouth. If you went to court saying you killed someone because someone else told you your victim was going to kill you, you would still go to jail. You 'hearing' something doesn't make it fact." Harry scoffed, and noticed both John and Sherlock smirking.

"You like him then?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where

are your parents?"

"I only just met the man last night, hardly enough to figure out an exact idea of what kind of person he is, but I know less about you then I do him. As for my parents, my fathers are over there, however if you mean my birth parents, they were murdered." said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry, tragic you got raised by muggles" said the other, 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 Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). Hagrid had been kind enough to get one for all of them, so even Sherlock ate his, after some prodding from John of course. Still, all of them could tell Harry was bothered by something.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied, but John gave him a look. "Harry ran into a boy while we were shopping for his uniform who said some things that I think got to Harry a bit." John said, and Sherlock looked a little disapproving. "I just didn't like his arrogance. Reminded me of a fusion of Dudley and Anderson, both spout their mouth without thought." Harry dismissed, and Sherlock smirked.

"A dreadful combination indeed."

Harry told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"--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. 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 0' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!" Hagrid said with confidence. "Not te mention these two chaps did a fine job raisin' ye." Hagrid said and patted both Sherlock and John on the backs.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop,Harry thought of something he forgot to ask.

"Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," Harry joked with an eye roll. "So what is Quidditch?"

"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?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o'

duffers, but —"

"That won't be Harry!" John said defiantly, making Harry chuckle.

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

You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley if I see him again, make him grow funny ears or something." Harry's air was very lighthearted and jovial. He wanted to learn everything he could, was that so wrong?

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, based on what you said about him, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Sherlock convince Harry to buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they 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, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

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

present."

Harry was a little embarrassed by that notion. After all he still didn't know the man that well.

"You don't have to —"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

"I'm not sure Mrs. Hudson would be okay with an owl in the house." John piped up.

"She didn't say anything about the skull, or the severed head, or the bowl of eyeballs..." Harry mused, and once again Hagrid looked alarmed.

"Another joke?" Hagrid asked hopefully.

"I wish it were." John sounded exasperated and Hagrid looked at Harry with concern, to which the boy just shrugged.

"They were for father's work. Besides, it's not the worst things I've seen." Harry said and John grabbed Harry's shoulders.

"That's enough talk on this, let's head off to the next store then." John said, clear discomfort in his voice.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"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... this was what Harry had been really looking forward to. He wanted to analyze it, try to figure out how it worked. He wondered if he could get ahold of a broken one or old one that he could dissect and experiment with. He imagined damaging a want may cause it to stop working, so he would have to resist using it for his own experiments, and hide it from Sherlock

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. Harry was a bit startled by the date listed. Had to be the oldest business in existence with that date.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid offered to John and Sherlock, before sitting on it to wait, by their request. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry was startled out of his thoughts. 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 them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have 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."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. Maybe it was the fact the man seemed to be able to tell who Harry was, not by his trademark scar, but by his eyes. Seeing people besides Sherlock reading people, especially him, was something Harry was far from used to.

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

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. "And that's where..."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...." He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

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

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

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

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

"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. "Have I introduced Harry's adoptive parents? This is John and Sherlock." Hagrid said, deflecting. "Hmm. Mugs! Well, let me ask, what do you think of all of this?" The old man asked.

"It's... incredible..." John said, and Sherlock just frowned.

"If I hadn't seen what happened around Harry with my own eyes, I would imagine this was some sort of prank by someone who thinks they're funny." Sherlock said somewhat rudely, receiving a jab from John.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving them all a piercing look. "Well, now -- Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I'm right-handed, and right eye dominant" said Harry, thinking more about how he was trained to use a gun rather then a wand, but he decided not to give Hagrid another heart attack.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

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

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled 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 took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

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

Harry tried -- 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 tried. And tried. He 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. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped, John and Sherlock looked a bit stunned and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious... " He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious..

"What's curious?" Harry asked, and 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 swallowed.

"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, HeWho-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked

down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them 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. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when John gently pulled at Harry's shoulder.

""I think we have time to eat before you need to head off Hagrid, our treat as thanks for your help." John extended said. "That's very kind of ye John." Hagrid said with a smile.

John bought Harry a hamburger, and two hamburgers, as well as chips for Hagrid. The group sat down on plastic seats to eat, and the conversation was quite quiet and calm. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had one of the best birthday of his life, certainly the strangest -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"I'm used to people thinking I'm special in some way," he said at last. "But all those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry -- I mean, the night my parents died." Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. just be yerself. 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."

Hagrid walked them back to Baker Street and handed Harry a ticket.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with getting sorted, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me.... See yeh soon, Harry."

John unlocked the door and began talking with Mrs. Hudson, explaining the owl by the sounds of it. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight, half expecting the man to disappear without a trace. As if mimicking his thoughts, Hagrid was gone in the blink of an eye.

-----------------------------

FINALLY!!! Oh my god this chapter took forever. Sorry about that, I know a lot of people were waiting for me to come back. Basically what's happened : I graduated college, got a job, got very busy at that job, contract at that job ended, and got busy again. However the constant voting and commenting did not go unnoticed and I'm so sorry it took so long. 

And now for a question! Actually I have two:

Should Harry still be a Gryffindor? Or does he better suit another house now? I'm waffling.

Should Sherlock and John become romantically involved with each other over time? 

PS: As much as I appreciate your comments, please don't just comment "Please update" I'm much more encouraged if you comment on what you like about the story then just asking for an update. It's kind of discouraging when no one has anything to say that hasn't already been said 

:(

Thanks!

Oh! And if you see any spelling mistakes, grammatical errors or anything, please feel free to point them out!