Calysta's jaw dropped in amazement, as a wonderful sight greeted her eyes, as she stepped through the archway, which shrunk back into a solid wall.

Letting go of Hagrid, she instantly gasped, looking all around her. Shops with strange names peeped back at her, and she struggled to take it all in. Her fingers buzzed with electricity, just itching to go into each and every one of those shops to have a look.

There were stores for cauldrons, and an Apothecary, and there was a pet store too. She was so busy looking at the view around her, she wasn't looking at the front of her, where a tall, white building that towered over all the other tiny shops.

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

On either side of it's emblazoned bronze doors, stood a shorter man, with a pointed nose, dressed in scarlet and gold uniform. 

"Is that—" began Calysta.

"Yeah, that's a goblin," Hagrid said quietly. 

There was a strange poem engraved into the next pair of silver doors, which Calysta read with interest. As they entered, the goblins bowed down to them, and they found themselves in a vast, marble hall.

Hundreds of goblins stood on high stools behind a long counter, weighing coins in brass scales and scribbling things on parchment, all using feather quills.

"Morning," Hagrid spotted a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta the Potters' safe."

"You have the key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," muttered Hagrid, emptying out his pockets on the counter. 

"Got it," he commented, holding up the tiny, golden key, which the goblin scrutinized closely.

"Seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly, puffing out his chest importantly. "It's about the You-Know-What is fault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter several times before handing it back to Hagrid.

"Very well, I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!" he called.

Griphook was another goblin. After Hagrid crammed the components of his pocket back inside, he and the twins followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You Know What?" Calysta whispered, her hazel, doe eyes wide and innocently looking up at Hagrid.

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

Griphook opened the door into a narrow, stone passageway, the sides holding up flaming torches. It sloped downwards, railway tracks on the floor.

"Are we underground?" Calysta questioned, wrinkling her nose at  the musty smell.

"Yes," said the goblin sullenly, whistling as a small cart stopped at their feet. They climbed in, and before Calysta could scream, they were off.

At last, the cart stopped beside a small door in the passage wall, and Griphook used the tiny, golden key to unlock it. A lot of green spoke puffed out, and as it disintegrated, Calysta got a full view of what lied behind those doors.

Harry gasped beside her, while she could only stare. "Whoa," she breathed.

Inside here mounds, and mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and heaps of those small little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," said Hagrid, with a smile.

All of theirs. Calysta's mouth went dry. Looking at Harry excitedly, she knew they were both thinking the same. The Dursleys would have this faster than blinking if they knew about it.

Giving both the twins a bag, Hagrid helped them pile some of it inside, explaining how the currency worked.

"The gold are galleons," he explained. "Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." 

He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen."

They went deeper into the tunnel, stopping by another tiny door. It had no keyhole. Griphook stroked the door with a long-nailed finger, watching as it 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. 

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Calysta was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first she thought it was empty. 

Then she 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. She longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

Back they whizzed past the many doors on the rickety cart, and before they knew it, they were standing in the sunlight outside Gringotts. 

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

"Er, Hagrid, would it be okay if I could go get an ice cream or something?" Calysta asked.

Harry nodded in agreement. 

"Alrigh'," Hagrid muttered. "How about this? Harry, yeh go get the ice creams, Florean Fortescue's just next door. Cal, you start fitting yer robes, the girls' robes take longer."

The twins both nodded, as Hagrid explained he was feeling sick, so he'd pass by The Leaky Cauldron.

Calysta watched Harry go to the brightly-colored ice cream parlor neighboring Madam Malkin's. Stepping through the glass door, she entered, a bell ringing overhead.

She felt rather nervous, looking around to see the displayed robes. Thankful she didn't have to wear any of those funny hats and strange stuffed animals, she looked around for assistance.

Madam Malkin was a squat witch, dressed all in mauve, her grey hair expertly styled. She looked very fashionable, Calysta observed.

"Hogwarts, dearie?" she asked, flashing Calysta a toothy smile. She nodded, her shyness fading away. "Got the lot here, a young man's  being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face stood on a footstool, while a second witch, dressed in black pinned up his long, black robes. He had a mass of blonde hair, gelled back intricately, and his blue eyes, almost gray, observed her, looking with interest as she entered, standing on a footstool next to him.

Madam Malkin began measuring her waist, her height and her shoulders, wearing a pair of pince-nez glasses over her nose.

"Hello," said the boy. "Hogwarts, too?" he questioned. 

"Mhmm," the brunette nodded.

"What's your name?" he questioned surveying her nervous demeanor.

She didn't want to tell him her name. The reason was simple. Whoever knew her name, or who she was would suddenly treat her importantly. Although she was famous, she didn't want anyone to know.

"You can call me Cal," she said finally. 

His lips curved into a side smile.

She hastily covered up her faint scar on her head with her hair, brushing it down with her hands.

The bell rang again, and Harry walked through the door, handing her a strawberry cone. Thanking him, she began licking up the creamy ice cream, which was, by far, the best ice cream she'd ever tasted, as Harry stood next to her, another witch beginning to fit him.

The blonde boy scrutinized Harry. "Who's he?" he asked Calysta. 

"My brother," she responded.

"I see," he said boredly. "My father's buying books, and my mother's looking at wands," drawled the boy, in a very bored, arrogant tone. "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 smuggle it in somehow."

Calysta wrinkled up her nose distastefully at how much he resembled Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" he asked Harry.

"No," he replied.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," said Harry again, as Calysta wondered what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do," he bragged. 

"Good for you," Calysta muttered under her breath, causing Harry to snort rather subtly.

"Father said it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree," the boy went on. "Know what House you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry.

"Definitely the one without you in it," Calysta murmured softly, making sure only Harry could hear her.

"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 turned to Calysta as he asked this question, hands straightening his blonde hair, as if to impress her.

"I don't care what House I am in," she said finally, stepping down from the stool. "As long as I'm not in the same House as you are."

The boy's eyes widened, nobody ever having spoken to him in this manner before, cheeks tinging pink in embarrassment.

He didn't say anything else after that.

Harry fought to hide his smile, secretly sending her a thumbs up.

She smiled, as Madam Malkin placed her newly-purchased robes in a bag. Calysta finished up her ice cream, waiting for Harry to get fitted.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window, where Hagrid stood, grinning and waving.

"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. They were both liking the boy less and less every second.

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

"You're the savage one here," Calysta said loudly, waving back at Hagrid.

The boy sneered at her, ignoring her rude comment, liking her less, and less. 

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, talking to Harry, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry said shortly.

"Oh, sorry," 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, linking arms with Calysta.

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

Calysta looked back at him.

"I hope I don't," she said with a fake smile, leaving Madam Malkin's, walking down the cobbled street with Hagrid.

"What a horrid boy!" commented Calysta, grimacing. "He was exactly like Dudley," she whispered to Harry.

"You just made your first enemy," Harry pointed out, causing his twin to giggle. "Did you really have to be so brutal?"

"He was spoiled," Calysta said wisely. "He needs to be brought down a peg or two."

Harry shook his head, as they stopped to buy quills, parchment, and potion supplies.

"What's up?" asked Hagrid, surveying the oddly-quiet, whispering twins.

"Nothing," Harry lied. 

Calysta did cheer up when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you write, and she begged Hagrid to let her buy the invisible quills.

She bought six invisible quills, thinking they'd be rather handy.

When they left the stationery shop, Harry asked Hagrid what Quidditch was.

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

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's. 

"And he was so spoiled," Calysta commented. "He was worse than Dudley," she emphasized. "— 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'd have bowed down to yeh — he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk, most likely purebloods. 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 o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!" 

Hagrid's words did help Calysta feel a whole load better.

"So what is Quidditch?" Harry interjected.

"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." 

"I want to play!" Calysta said loudly. "But first years aren't allowed brooms," she pouted. 

"Yeh can always use to school brooms to fly," said Hagrid, instantly cheering her up. "But first yeh gotta learn how to fly."

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

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

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

"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."

At this, Calysta spluttered. "Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid

Calysta went mad when they entered the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. Buying a whole load of extra books, wizarding novels, and some extra spell books (which she hid from Hagrid), she was so eager to start reading them.

All that was left to get were wands.

"Just yer wand left — oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh two a birthday present."

"Hagrid, 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'." 

Twenty minutes later, they left Eyelops 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.

Calysta had an identical cage, an owl with soft, fluffy feathers was sleeping inside, his feathers a mix of dark and light greys, slightly shimmering in the sun.

They kept thanking Hagrid, who brushed it off, claiming that they didn't get birthday presents from the Dursleys.

"Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand, this was what they were both looking forward to most.

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 they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait.

Calysta felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

The tips of her fingertips buzzed with energy, the way she'd felt right before she set Uncle Vernon on fire.

She felt alive.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped, Calysta turning sharply backwards in surprise.

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

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Good afternoon," Calysta piped up.

"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."

"You, on the other hand," he turned to Calysta. "You have your father's eyes, Calysta," he commented. "Your father, 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.

"And that's where . . ."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with along, 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 todo. . . ."

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, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke. 

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look.

"Let's start with Mr. Potter, shall we?" he questioned, turning to Harry. "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?"

"Erm- I'm right handed," said Harry.

"That's it, hold out your arm," 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 tailfeathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Ollivander seemed to look at the piled boxes of wands in his shop, before taking out one. "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 gave it a wave, and almost instantly, Ollivander snatched it out of his hand. "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried, but once again, before he could give it another wave, Ollivander pinched it from his fingers.

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

Calysta watched boredly, as Harry tried wand after wand, the pile of tried wands growing larger and larger. Hagrid had fallen asleep on the spindly chair, and Calysta was counting the number of wands it took until Harry found the right wand. It seemed like the only person here enjoying this was Ollivander, his excitement and smile getting wider and wider as more and more wands were rejected.

"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." 

Waiting for Ollivander to snatch it out, she noticed Harry's smile, and as he waved it, red and gold sparks shot out from its tip.

"Finally!" she cheered, standing up from the floor, as Hagrid woke up and clapped him on the back, while Ollivander was practically dancing and jumping as he whooped, and cried, "Oh, bravo, very good indeed, oh, very good...... Well, well, well, how curious... how very curious indeed.." 

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

"Sorry, but what's curious?" Harry asked.

"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 thats car." 

Calysta gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth, while Harry stared blankly, swallowing.

"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."

Calysta shook her head, her mouth dry at the thought of her turn at getting a wand.

Stepping up, she merely stood before Ollivander, waiting for her to hand her a wand to try out.

Ollivander handed her a wand after taking her measurements. She too, was right handed, although she had trained her left hand to be equally good (after Dudley had broken her right arm when pushing her down the stairs).

"Vine wood with a unicorn hair core, twelve and three quarter inches, supple," he handed it to her.

She gave it a wave, and Ollivander nipped it from her fingers faster than lighting. "Definitely not!" he exclaimed.

"Try this, dragon heartstring, English Oak, eleven inches, reasonably bendy," he gave her another.

He snatched it again.

"Phoenix feather and maple, thirteen inches, flexible."

She waved the wand in her hand, and instantly, she felt it crack. Her eyes widened as she stared at the broken halves of the wand. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she widened her eyes, handing him the wand. 

Ollivander stared at her with his silver eyes, which turned glassy. "This has never happened before," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see.." He observed the wand, examining its components. "It seems to me, Miss Potter, that maple wood is just not for you," he remarked.

He gave her another, (beech and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, brittle) and this one wasn't the one either.

After trying and trying, she was positive that even all the wands in the shop wouldn't satisfy Ollivander, who again, seemed to get more and more excited. By the twenty-fifth wand, her pile was much bigger than Harry's.

Finally, Ollivander seemed to remember something, and he directed her to a completely deserted section of the shop. A small pile of wands in boxes lay on the otherwise bare shelf, entirely smothered in dust, it was difficult to see anything at all.

Ollivander waved his wand, causing the dust to vanish, as he scrutinized the boxes. There were only five. He picked one of them, and gave it to her.

"Try this one, Miss Potter," His voice was rather low, and parched, as if he needed a drink of water. 

His gaze held some sort of fear in his eyes, as if he were silently pleading for the wand not to choose her. 

The moment she held it, warmth flooded through her fingers, her blood pulsing faster. 

Within seconds, she waved it, and black sparks emitted from the tip, causing Ollivander's eyes to widen while Hagrid cheered, and Harry congratulated her.

"Miss Potter," Ollivander whispered. "This wand has been on this shelf for centuries," he told her. "It is rather eccentric it chose you, when it has rejected thousands of magical folk before you.. I had given up trying to find the person the wand chose..."

"But why?" she questioned.

Ollivander took the wand in his hands. "Ashwood, thirteen and three-quarter inches, brittle," he told her. 

It sounded... normal. Until she realized he'd forgotten to tell her the most important detail.

"And the core?" she whispered, her throat dry.

"Thestral hair," he spoke, his nose nearly touching hers.

"What's a thestral?" she questioned softly, holding the wand tightly in her hand. "It is just another magical beast," he told her with a smile, and a shake of his head.

"What fascinates me is that I prefer to only use three cores. Dragon heartstring, phoenix feather and unicorn hair. It is most peculiar that this wand chose you, when thestral hair is considered unstable for a wand..."

"But if thestral hair is unstable, why did you use it to make this wand?" she questioned curiously. 

"My dear, I didn't recognize it as thestral hair back then," he told her with a smile. "When I had just begun making wands, it mistakenly arrived with the unicorn hair bundle I'd purchased back then. Thinking it was unicorn hair, I used it. It was only after the wand was completed that I realized I'd made a very grave mistake."

She listened carefully, observing the wand in her hands.

"I think, we can expect great things from you too, Miss Potter," Ollivander said gravely. "I'm just not sure if they will all be good. After all, thestral hair is rather unstable. Be careful."

"I... I will," she promised, with a small smile. Although she did find Ollivander a bit odd, she really looked up to him and admired him.

After they paid fourteen galleons for both their wands, Harry and Calysta left the shop, both thoroughly exhausted, Hagrid following them outside.

As the dawn of the sunset streaked through the sky, Harry and Calysta followed Hagrid through Diagon Alley, back into the Leaky Cauldron, which was nearly empty. 

Harry was walking a few steps behind Calysta, suddenly noticing something. "Your hair," he pointed out. "When did it become light brown?" he questioned. 

True, when Calysta looked down at her hair, she noticed that instead of the vivid red, her hair had gradually become a shade of brown, almost chestnut brown. Shrugging she waved it off. "Dunno."

Neither of them spoke much, both deep in thought as they made their way through the underground train station, stopping at a fast-food restaurant at Paddington station. 

"Yeh alright?" Hagrid asked, as the two ate their hamburgers in silence. "Yer both very quiet."

Calysta nodded, popping a potato wedge into her mouth. 

"Everyone thinks we're special," Harry said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander... but neither of us know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? We're famous and we can't even remember what we're famous for. We don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night our parents died."

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

 "Don' you worry, yeh two. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerselves. 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 helped the twins on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed either of them an envelope. 

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September — King's Cross— it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owls, they'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Harry, Cal." 

Calysta gave Hagrid a hug, entering the train after it pulled out of the station. They sat next to the window, both wanting to watch Hagrid out of sight, but within the blink of an eye, Hagrid was gone.

{ this is a loooooong chapter- yeah, hope it was satisfactory, please comment, vote and share the story. }