Chapter Five

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling (except Robert and I'd be honored to make her a gift of him if she ever wants him.)

Acknowledgements: Big fuzzy "Kitty-Glomps" to NotSoSaintly for all her help in posting this and Dark Beta for making sure it's fit to post!

Xiomara: Come on, you lot, we have time for another chapter!

Minerva: Well... I should be ashamed of myself, but... one more. But after that, we really have to get back to studying!

Xiomara: (slightly annoyed) Look who's making the rules for us all!

Robert: The one who has a scholarship to worry about!

Xiomara: Er... good point.

Robert: Who's going to read the next chapter?

Pomona: Oh, me! Me! (Realizes she's sounding like a little kid.) Er... if that's okay with everyone.

Pomona: Chapter Five: Diagon Alley.

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

"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 cupboard."

Minerva: The poor lad has a rather negative outlook, hasn't he?

Pomona: Hey, when I woke up the morning after I got my letter, my first thought was, "What an incredible dream!" Then I heard my Mum on the phone to my Gran saying, "I didn't say she'd sold her soul to the Devil, Mother. I only said she was a witch!" and I knew it was all true.

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

(Without leaving her chair, Pomona does a couple of tap-dance steps.)

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

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him.

Alastor: Better see the mediwitch, boy. Sounds like one of the more esoteric inflating curses.

He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Robert: How does he know owls aren't supposed to attack wizards' coats?

Xiomara: He doesn't. He just doesn't want it to spoil its appetite. He's hoping it'll eat Dudley.

Pomona: It would take a Roc to eat Dudley!

Minerva: Mona, Rocs are mythical.

Pomona: Are they?

All: Yes!

Pomona: Unlike dragons, unicorns, werewolves...I still have so much to learn!

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl - "

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Pomona: Uh-oh.

Alastor: What?

Pomona: Last night Hagrid told Harry he had live dormice in his coat pockets. Now he's telling him to look in the pockets to pay an owl. If you were from the Muggle world and didn't know anything about delivery owls, what would you think?

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.

Alastor: See, Mona? The dormice were smart enough to hide.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

Minerva: Five? For a newspaper? That's ridiculous!

Robert: Good, Minna, start getting in practice now...

Minerva: Oh, Morgan, I know what's coming...

Robert: ...so when you're a Gran, you'll be able to rant about how when you were a girl you could get the paper delivered for one Knut and still have change!

Minerva: How do you get change from one Knut, Robbie?

Robert: Details!

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Alastor: And across the border with the Daily Prophet's money, never to be heard from again.

Pomona: The Case of the Embezzling Owl.

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 had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

Xiomara: Guess you can cancel that call to the mediwitch, Alastor.

"Um - Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"I haven't got any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night...he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

Robert: That's okay. Hagrid can just turn Vernon upside-down and shake the money out of his pockets.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing and scratching his head.

Xiomara: ...being careful not to disturb the indigenous wildlife.

"D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

Alastor: I wouldn't say that too loud if the Dursleys are still in the next room.

"But if their house was destroyed - "

"They didn't keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' I wouldn' say no to a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

Minerva: Cake for breakfast? Bleagh!

Pomona: I don't know - it sounds good to me.

"Wizards have banks?"

Filius: Have banks? We invented the concept!

Minerva: Yes, but Muggles don't know that, Flit.

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

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

Robert: And Dudley came scrambling out of the other room, snatched it up off the floor...

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell ya that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -

Minerva: Excuse me?

'cept maybe Hogwarts.

Minerva: That's better!

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.

Pomona: Don't say it, Al!

"Got everythin'?

Robert: He didn't have anything to start with.

Come on, then."

Harry followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight.

Minerva: How symbolic!

The boat Uncle Vernon 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.

Robert: Hitched a ride with the giant squid!

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

Xiomara: That must have been some broomstick!

"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.

Filius: What I'm wondering is how the Dursleys are going to get to shore?

Xiomara: They're so scared of Hagrid, they probably swam home during the night!

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

Alastor: Setting a bad example there. Suppose he's trying to turn Harry to the dark side?

"Of course not," said Harry, 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?" Harry asked.

"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 under London, see.

Pomona: Hundreds of miles? Doesn't that put you into the magma?

Filius: Is that Muggle science? What it does is bring you into salamander territory.

Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this,

Robert: Merlin's Bones!

Filius: What?

Robert: My best mate's got something in common with a Dursley! Oh, the shame!

(All look at Minerva and snicker. She tries to look like she's above all this.)

but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

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

Xiomara: And thus we learn that some things remain constant through all time.

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

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts,

Minerva: Dumbledore for Minister! Now that just might straighten the world out!

so old Cornelius Fudge got the job.

Alastor: Is there anyone named Fudge at Hogwarts?

Filius: Well, I know there's a Fudge family. I don't think any of them are students here just now.

Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every day, askin' fer advice."

Robert: I'm trying to picture pelting someone with owls.

Minerva: Seems a little hard on the poor owls.

Filius: They'd never sit still for it. The minute they were thrown, they'd fly away.

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

Xiomara: I've often wondered that.

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

Minerva: If you knew some of the Muggles in my village back home, lad, you wouldn't have to ask.

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems.

Minerva: Starting with the question, "How can we most effectively burn all of you demon-spawn?"

Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor 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 to perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

Minerva: (sternly) And what was all that talk about keeping the Muggles from finding out about us?

Alastor: And Dumbledore trusts this idiot?

"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."

Xiomara: On a bun with mustard?

"You'd like one?"

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

Filius: Well, that tears it, he's mad. Someone had better inform Dumbledore.

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 Harry so he could buy their tickets.

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

Minerva: A lot of shepherds do that. Knit, I mean. Not much to do all day while they're watching the sheep. Cold weather and all this wool around, ready to hand...

Alastor: That's not all they do, from what I hear.

Xiomara: Hey, innuendo is my trademark!

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Robert: No, Dudley ate it during the night.

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.

Xiomara: Yes, just imagine if Flit got one of Hagrid's robes back from laundering by mistake?

COURSE BOOKS

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

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

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

Pomona: What? You mean they aren't using the course books written by Minerva Duncan, the greatest Transfigurationist of the age?

Robert: It's an outrage!

(Minerva blushes.)

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

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

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

Pomona: Does it really put so much emphasis on the "OR"s?

Robert: Upper case, see? (Shows her the page.)

Pomona: My letter just said "an owl, cat or toad." There was no big fuss about "OR".

Minerva: It sounds like they changed the wording after some fool tried to bring all three.

Alastor: Someone like young Hagrid, maybe?

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

Minerva: There's a reason for that. I found an early-edition of Hogwarts, A History in the Restricted Section. There were a couple of fatal accidents in the earliest days before they made that rule. The more recent editions don't seem to mention that.

Alastor: And you wonder why I don't trust what I'm told?

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

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

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way.

Pomona: Whenever I walk on a London street,

I'm ever so careful to watch my feet;

And I keep in the squares,

And the masses of bears,

Who wait on the corners all ready to eat

The sillies who tread on the lines of the street,

Go back to their lairs,

And I say to them, "Bears,

Just look how I'm walking in all of the squares!"

(The others look at each other uneasily.)

Filius: (In an undertone) Do you think she's all right?

Xiomara: I'm not sure. It's hard to tell sometimes.

Pomona: Oh, that's it! I've got to have my parents owl my old Milne books to school so I can read them to you lot!

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

Alastor: Shout it from the housetops why don't you, laddie?

Pomona: Actually, he may be being clever. If he tried to be inconspicuous, people might notice and wonder about it, but if he talks loudly about magic, most Muggles will just write him off as a bit mad and steer clear. (Thinks a moment.) Although they might start to worry about a madman having a child with him.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed bookshops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand.

Pomona: I wonder if you could use a piccolo as a wand?

Filius: I doubt it. It doesn't have a core.

Robert: Then again, Dumbledore says that music has a magic all its own.

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? Might this not all be some huge joke the Dursleys had cooked up? If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him.

Pomona: After the Dursleys, he'd have been willing to trust anyone!

Alastor: Bad precedent.

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

Filius: Another constant through all time.

Robert: Have you seen the "Merlin pissed here" plaque in the alley out back?

Pomona: How do you know what it says?

Minerva: You have to be able to read ancient Ogham.

Xiomara: I always thought that plaque said, "If you can read this, you have too much education."

Minerva: Xia, there's no such thing!

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry 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, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it.

Alastor: I should bloody well hope so! If Grindelwald really wants to wreak havoc, he should...(stops.)

Pomona: What?

Alastor: Never mind.

Xiomara: Ah-HAH! Which of us is the spy, Al? Come on, who do you suspect?

Filius: I'm guessing you mean he'd have only to take the disguise spell off of the Leaky Cauldron and let the Muggles start getting curious about the place, and we'd really be in trouble, eh, Al?

Alastor: Interesting turn of mind you've got, laddie.

Filius: Of course! I'm a Ravenclaw!

Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.

Xiomara: Bloody hell! What happened to Tom?

Filius: Tom?

Pomona: The handsome chap who tends bar at the Leaky Cauldron. You must have seen him!

The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. 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,

Xiomara/Minerva/Pomona: NO!

I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

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

Robert: James and Lily's son! I want a word with you about the tab your parents ran up just before they died!

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter...what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry

Alastor: And Harry, instinctively seeing the rush as a threat, transformed him into a cockroach before he had time to think.

Filius: That won't happen until after you've trained him for a few months, Al.

and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

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

Harry didn't know what to say.

Pomona: How about "thank you"?

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.

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

Filius: They're joking! Doris Crockford is a Ravenclaw second year!

"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."

Robert: Ah-hah! The man with the shooting stars!

Xiomara: Going to get his autograph, Robbie?

"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.

Robert: She does that when the house-elves make brownies too, I've noticed.

Minerva: Which is interesting since house-elves are a subspecies of brownie.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"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."

Pomona: Oh, dear. You know they're working on new treatments for that now.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it.

Alastor: Not thinking about it is NOT the answer! (The others all see what's coming and hastily put their fingers in their ears.) CONSTANT VIGILENCE!

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?"

Minerva: Of course he does! Instinct is a poor substitute for education.

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.

Minerva: It's a good idea to learn all you can about vampires.

Robert: There's a lot at stake.

(General groans.)

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

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

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.

Robert: And a small brass plaque.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous.

Xiomara: Now, now. Nobody likes an I-Told-You-So.

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 first-hand experience...They say he met a vampire 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.

Pomona: I know how he feels!

Xiomara: The backstroke or the crawl?

Pomona: When I first learned that vampires really exist? The crawls!

Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

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

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 -

(Pomona automatically reaches out and put a hand over Xiomara's mouth.)

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."

Alastor: Now give us your money and go home.

He grinned at Harry's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone 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," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes.

Alastor: I knew he'd been in that cupboard with the spiders too long!

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, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..."

Filius: They certainly are! Why, it's only four Sickles in Hogsmeade.

Pomona: Everything is expensive in London.

Filius: And in the future, apparently!

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it.

Xiomara: Ah, now it's getting interesting!

"Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever - "

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes

Xiomara: Sod that, get back to the part about the broomstick!

and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, window 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.

Pomona: Do you suppose goblins are trying to compensate for something?

Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was -

Minerva: (smugly) Interesting... Harry is coming to claim his birthright and the first colors we hear about are red and gold... Foreshadowing, I call it.

Robert: Actually, Minna, they did mention bronze just now.

Minerva: As a metal, not as a color.

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

Alastor: Plenty of mad folk about. There's always someone who thinks he can outsmart the world.

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.

Robert/Minerva: Free the goblins!

Filius: You're a few centuries too late.

"We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

Pomona: Well, of course, if he's the Keeper of the Keys!

"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.

Alastor: Good thing Dudley didn't see those last night.

The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

Minerva: Take note, Mr. Moody - more red!

Alastor: We're still ahead on the green references, though.

"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 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."

Alastor: Oh, the "You-Know-What". How discrete.

Xiomara: Suppose it has anything to do with "You-Know-Who"?

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 door leading off the hall.

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

Filius: Doesn't he mean vault You-Know-Which?

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

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches.

Minerva: Well, it could hardly be lit with un-flaming torches, could it?

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.

Filius: And sat up and begged for a dog biscuit.

They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - 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.

Alastor: Good try though. Always pay attention to where they're taking you!

Robert: In case they're taking you You-Know-Where?

Alastor: (Suspiciously) What do you know about...that place?

Robert: (Mysteriously) Everyone knows it... nobody says it.

Pomona: All right, you two. I am Mistress of the Book at the moment, so settle down.

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 if it was a dragon, but too late - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

Minerva/Robert: Stalagmites grow from the floor and stalactites grow from the ceiling.

Pomona: Show offs!

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green,

Alastor: More green! Yes!

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,

Alastor: Still more green! He's mine!

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. How often had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep?

Minerva: How much could he cost? They don't feed him properly, they don't buy him clothes, they...

Robert: Minna, I think we're supposed to understand all that.

And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

Xiomara: He should hide some of it in his bra to be safe. (Pause) Oh. Right.

Filius: At the risk of being ungentlemanly, Xia, I now have a theory about that jingling sound I heard when you were hit by the Bludger last month.

"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, 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.

Pomona: Which makes absolutely no sense. The deeper they go, the warmer it should get. Especially if they're anywhere near Salamanders!

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.

Filius: Oh, Petunia would hate that!

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers

All: Don't say it, Xia!

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.

Robert: I think I'd want my money washed before I took it away!

Filius: Muggles have something called "money laundering," don't they, Mona?

Pomona: Yes, but it's not quite the same thing.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels 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.

Pomona: It's the You-Know-What, of course!

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

Alastor: A lesson to us all!

One 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.

Robert: I thought pounds were something to do with weight? In which case, nobody has more pounds than Dudley does.

Filius: That's only in America. In Britain, they're the name of one denomination of Muggle currency.

Alastor: "Denomination"? I thought that was something to do with religion?

Pomona: (ruefully) For some Muggles, money is a religion!

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

Minerva: Now he's going to go pour alcohol into a queasy stomach?

He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

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

Minerva: You don't suppose that's Mimi Malkin, do you? I wouldn't call her "squat" exactly, but...

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

Pomona: Ah! Harry's first school friend!

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.

Alastor: Uh-oh.

Pomona: What?

Alastor: Nothing, probably just coincidence.

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?"

Robert: That's got to be the most inane introduction line of all time. Where else would he be going?

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands,"

Minerva: How is a wand going to choose a wizard by examining his mother? That sounds like matchmaking taken to an extreme degree! Not that I'd let my parents choose my wand or ... (trails off as this brings the whole "Minerva McGonagall" issue back to her mind.)

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.

Alastor: Sorry, Mona. Bad guess.

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

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

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

Xiomara: Better than rubies, to seize and hold,

A perfect sphere with wings of gold!

Pomona: Did you just make that up, Xia?

Xiomara: Beats that Milne fellow, eh?

"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?"

All: MINE!

"No," said Harry, feeling 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 -

Alastor: Please, no! Don't let this be who I think it is...!

imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Xiomara: That anemic little twerp couldn't make it into Hufflepuff if he got down on his knees and begged!

Pomona: Not even if he took a blood-oath of loyalty!

Xiomara: Not even if he promised to scrub the entire castle once a week!

Pomona: Not even if he...

Robert: Right, you two, we get the idea.

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window.

Xiomara: Appreciating the view are we, dear boy?

Pomona: Xia!

Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing to two 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."

Xiomara: (As Harry) And he's mine, so back off!

(Pomona opens her mouth, presumably to say "Xia!" again. Xiomara claps a hand over it.)

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

Robert: Why do I get the feeling that comment's not going to sit too well...?

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -

Xiomara: Who lives with wild, ravening dormice.

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."

Xiomara: Ooh - Sounds like a recommendation!

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

Minerva: That's probably slightly over-fond.

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

Alastor: Working for the Daily Prophet are you, lad?

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

Pomona: I don't think I like this boy.

Filius: We knew that, Mona, and believe me, we all agree!

"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?

Pomona: Well, where am I supposed to go?

Xiomara: Somehow, I don't think you want to ask this boy that question, Mona.

Pomona: Good point.

They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways.

Minerva: That's what an education is for, laddie!

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?"

Robert: Just call me "Sur".

Xiomara: Just call me gone!

Filius: Better yet, don't call me!

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.

Filius: It sounds like people forget she's there while she pins up their robes. She must overhear some interesting conversations.

Alastor: Hmmm, put an undercover Auror into the right shop...

"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).

Pomona: I didn't know you could get those in Diagon Alley! And I thought I knew the place backward and forward by now!

Minerva: Maybe it's a shop that hasn't opened yet, Mona. This is more than fifty years into the future, after all.

Pomona: Motivation to live a long life!

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. 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, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, 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.

Filius: Well, I hope he edited the story a little!

" - 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 o' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

Filius: It's the best game in the world, as long as you're not being used as the Quaffle!

"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 -"

Pomona/Xiomara: WRONG!

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

Xiomara: Yes! I knew it!

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly.

Alastor: How's that again?

"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.

Alastor: That's a blatant lie!

You-Know-Who was one."

Alastor: Slytherin's also turned out some damn good Aurors, "Shagrid," but I don't hear you mentioning that! Who do you think is best for hunting down dark wizards? Some Gryffindor who'll rush in where angels and sane people fear to tread?

Minerva: Well, someone has to do it!

Alastor: Or a Ravenclaw with their nose in a book and their head in the clouds?

Filius: (Proudly) That's us, Robbie!

Alastor: Or a Hufflepuff, so bloody sweet-natured they wouldn't know evil if it bit them on the bum, and who'd try to reform Grindelwald with a big hug and a nice cup of tea?

Pomona: Has anyone ever tried that?

Alastor: Hah! Take my word for it, people; it takes a devious mind to understand a devious mind!

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

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

Minerva: If only he hadn't studied at such a good school, when he went bad it wouldn't have mattered so much!

Robert: That's carrying school pride to a rather odd level, Minna.

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 Counter-curses (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.

Alastor: Ha! I always knew Vin'd find a way to make his fortune! Do you think we should tell him?

Minerva: I'm sure he'll figure it out, Al.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

Xiomara: How about "Dudley, you..." (spews a string of obscenities that would make a Longshoreman blush.)

Pomona: XIA!!!

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, 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 Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either

Filius: Too heavy! Remember, Harry, you'll have to carry it to class three times a week!

("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.

Minerva: And Hagrid's dealing with this on top of a drink or two, on top of motion-sickness...

Robert: Well, I'm not going to clean it up!

Pomona: Yuck!

Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundle 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).

Pomona: Say, I've been meaning to ask about that; it's a dreadful crime to kill a unicorn, right?

Others: "Yes"; "Of course!"; "Why do you want to know?" and so on.

Pomona: So how can they sell unicorn horns in Diagon Alley? Knockturn Alley, I could see, but...

Minerva: (Sounding as if she'd swallowed the textbook.) Male unicorns shed their horns at the end of each mating season, the females slightly later. Unlike deer, they begin re-growing them almost immediately...

Xiomara: Psst! Robbie! Where's the off-switch?

Minerva: (Ignoring this.) Unicorns have occasionally been mistaken for horses during the brief period when they are completely hornless.

Pomona: So it's just a question of hiking through unicorn country at the right time of year until you find a horn lying around?

Filius: Some people make a lifetime career of it.

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

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

Harry felt himself go red.

Minerva: Red again? Pay attention, everyone!

Robert: Hmm, red face, gold in his pockets...You could be on to something, Minna.

"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 -

Pomona: What?

Filius: And when, may I ask, did toads go out of fashion?

Minerva: Well, sometime between now and the 1990's, obviously.

Filius/Pomona: Humph!

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 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.

Filius: A Snowy! Harry must be quite strong for his size; Snowys aren't exactly lightweights!

"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.

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.

Robert: Ollivander claims it's the wand of Merlin himself.

Filius: Well, that's a better memento than the Leaky Cauldron has!

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. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library;

Filius: Yes, but it's the wands that read you.

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.

Pomona: I remember feeling that!

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. 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.

Filius: Willow is good for charm work!

Nice wand for charm work."

Filius: I knew it!

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration.

Minerva: Ah-hah! I think I like Harry's father!

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.

Minerva: (annoyed) Why do people always assume they can touch children without permission? Mr. Ollivander is a bit strange, but I doubt he would have done that to an adult!

"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?"

Robert: Don't you love being identified solely by your wand?

Xiomara: You haven't anything to worry about, laddybuck!

Minerva: XIOMARA!!!

Xiomara: Hah! Made you look!

Filius: Children...!

"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.

Pomona: That sounds so military, somehow.

"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.

Alastor: To anyone who's paying attention, that should be a dead giveaway right there!

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid 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?"

Pomona: When is he going to learn that children from Muggle families won't know what that means?

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

Pomona: Okay, well some of them won't.

"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.

Pomona: When I was shopping for my wand, Mr. Ollivander forgot to say that until I yelped.

Robert: Merlin's beard, what was it trying to measure?

Pomona: I'll bet Xia can guess!

"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 -"

Filius: Seven inches? Even my wand isn't that short! And Xia, don't try to make to make anything risqué out of that unless you're prepared to test your theory!

(General chorus of catcalls. Pomona blushes, but also looks a little annoyed. Xiomara just grins.)

Xiomara: I'll send my assistant to do the fieldwork.

Pomona: (Blushing deeper but also giggling.) Xia...!

Harry tried - but he 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.

Minerva: Morgan's bones!

Robert: What?

Minerva: Do you suppose the only wand Harry is a match for is the one in the window?

Robert: Merlin's wand!

Minerva: Exactly!

"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."

Filius: I suspect this is going to be the one, Minna. A good effort, though.

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.

Minerva: Red and gold! Do you all hear that, RED AND GOLD!

Robert: Minna, slow, deep breaths.

Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good.

Well, well, well... how curious... how very curious..."

Pomona: Does that mean it's time for a Louis Carroll quote?

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

Filius: Yes, we all are by now. Are you going to explain it?

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

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

Xiomara: That stare is pretty curious for one thing.

"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."

Robert: As the theme music rumbles portentously...

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

Minerva: Honestly! I don't believe in lying to children, but that doesn't mean you have to tell them everything! The way he put it, he might as well have said, "Congratulations, lad, you've been chosen as the next Dark Lord!" As if poor Harry didn't have enough on his mind just now!

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.

Minerva: Don't Muggles know it's rude to stare?

Pomona: Some do.

Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bit to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

Pomona: Get used to that, Harry. It'll look strange every summer when you first get back to the Muggle world.

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

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

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last.

Xiomara: Well, let's see. He defeated a powerful Dark wizard when he was only a baby, he survived the Avada Kedavra, he's a parselmouth. What do you think guys, anything special about him?

Minerva: He's survived ten years with the Dursleys.

Xiomara: Now that makes him special!

"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 always starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself.

Pomona: He's barely finding out who "himself" is!

Filius: Who isn't, at eleven?

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 Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket 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 owl, she'll know where to find me...

Alastor: And what's to stop the Dursleys from killing his owl first thing?

See yeh soon, Harry."

Pomona: What? But how's he going to find the platform?

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

(Pause)

Minerva: Well that left a lot of loose ends!

Alastor: Such as, how did Hagrid disappear in a blink if he's not allowed to use magic?

Filius: And how is Harry supposed to take the Hogwarts Express when Hagrid didn't tell him how to find the platform?

Pomona: Well, that was only Chapter Five. There's a lot more story to go.

Minerva: Speaking of having a lot more to go, I have two more feet to write on this Transfiguration paper, and I know we all could use more work before the Potions exam.

(General grumbles of reluctant agreement. As people are digging out quills, re-opening textbooks and so on, Alastor takes the Book and quietly tucks it into his bag.)