Ok, so I got bored and decided to try writing this. Having said that, I started writing it over a year ago and it was just another fic that ended up put to one side and forgotten.

Enjoy:)

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Summary: He was a genius, the most gifted mind since Nicholas Flammel. Unfortunately Harry Potter is also not exactly 'all there'. He is rude, unmotivated and doesn't give a crap who knows it. Can Hogwarts change this, or will he get bored of magic too. After all, 'if everything comes easy, everything is boring'.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing :(

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Chapter 1- Bored

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Harry frowned as he leaned his book towards the small light bulb, shifting uncomfortable in the small space the cupboard allowed him as he tried to read. The book was on 'Advanced Genetics', a subject he had taken a little interest in over the past few days along with Physics, Chemistry and Behavioural Psychology. Now most people would think so many advanced and complicated subject would be hard for anyone to understand even on their own, and Harry supposed for normal people it was. But Harry wasn't normal, a fact his…relatives, often enjoyed pointing out to him.

At ten, almost eleven, years old Harry not only understood these subjects, along with any others he decided to look into, but excelled at them. His primary school teachers had called him a genius, though at the time he had been four before he started skipping years.

By this point in time Harry had finished his schooling and was looking into university courses, not that his aunt and uncle would ever pay for him to go. But then again that was what scholarships were for, and he doubted his relatives would try and stop him leaving there home.

Ever since he was little Harry had lived in the cupboard under the stairs at his relative's house, and he had always been…well bored. Everything was boring to him, easy to understand. In fact the only thing he hadn't understood was the odd things that sometimes happened around him as he was growing up.

His teacher's hair changing to bright neon pink in the middle of a lesson after shouting at him for falling asleep while amusing, was not normal. There were other things too, like his uncle breaking his hand once on Harry's face when he tried to 'Beat the Freak out of him'. Or the time Ripper his aunt Marg's bulldog lost the ability to bark after chasing Harry up a tree. In fact just the other day Harry learned he could speak to snakes, right before the glass from the front of a cage at the zoo disappeared and said snake escaped. The fact that it had scared his whale of a cousin on the way had been amusing while it lasted, though the novelty had worn off quickly.

But that was why he found them so interesting, the fact he didn't understand them. All he had been able to understand was that he was the common denominator, he was the thing that connected all of the strange events together. Harry also didn't miss his aunt and uncles reactions when these things happened, though his uncle turning purple in rage was hard to miss anyway. They clearly knew something, and hated him for it.

Logically this made him assume that his parents had something to do with it or that they were the same as him, seeing as his aunt and uncle definitely weren't. He could ask but knew there would be no point, they wouldn't tell him anything. The only reason his Uncle had stopped beating him was because of the time he broke his hand, after that they seemed to fear it would happen again so stuck with insults and locking him in the cupboard for days without food.

Though honestly Harry didn't mind the cupboard all that much.

Sure it was small and smelled like mold, but it was quiet and at least he had the light so he could read.

He sometimes contemplated telling someone about the abuse, but in the end just never saw the point. If people didn't notice the clear signs then why should he try and point it out to them, there were people paid to notice and fix things like that and he wasn't one of them. Though Harry also wondered if they were paid too much because they clearly didn't know how to do their jobs.

It was actually just over a week before Harry turned eleven, not that he celebrated his birthday or understood why other people did. It just seemed like a waste of time and money to him, though Harry would admit to himself he wasn't exactly 'sociable'. For all his genius, Harry could never understand people in general.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of the lock on the outside of the cupboard door being opened, the frowning face of his aunt standing on the other side glaring at him.

"Get up, if you want breakfasts there is some cold toast in the kitchen for you. You can grab the post while you're at it and bring it through."

Making no move to get up of even look away from his book, Harry waved one hand at her without care.

"Get it yourself, the door is five steps from where you're stood anyway."

"GET UP BOY! You should be grateful you're still allowed in this house you ungrateful little freak!"

Frowning as he used his little finger to try and clear the ringing out of his ear from the shouting, Harry finally looked up from his book and stared at his aunt with half lidded, dull eyes filled with boredom.

"Fuck off you stupid giraffe, I'm reading."

That fact that she showed very little reaction to his words showed how used to them she was, when he had first started cussing her out she had looked close to fainting.

Harry tried to ignore his aunt after that and return to his book, but the feel of her eyes glaring at him was starting to make his skin crawl. When this carried on for five more minutes he had had enough and slammed his book closed, before crawling out of the cupboard and standing up to stretch.

His aunt didn't wait for him before moving back to the table, throwing one last reminder to get the post before he dared set foot in her kitchen. Letting out a sigh after he was done Harry slowly moved to grab the mail, it wasn't like he actually care one way or another, but he just didn't want his aunt to think she could boss him around without any argument.

He decided to take a look through the letters while he made his way to the kitchen, expecting the first of his University acceptances to be arriving soon. While not fond of self-advertising, a ten year old boy genius would always catch the eyes of universities and he had been sent applications for several without even asking. At this point it was a formality, Harry could choose any he wanted and they would probably lay a red carpet for his arrival.

There was a postcard from his aunt Marge for his uncle, a few bills, and three letter with his name on them.

The first had the Cambridge University logo in the corner, the second was Oxford but the third he had no clue about. The envelope look more than a little old fashioned, made from parchment instead of instead of paper. It was actually sealed with red wax, some kind of emblem pressed into it. But the thing that really caught his attention was the hand written address on the front.

Mr H. J. Potter,

The Cupboard under the Stairs,

4 Private Drive

Was this supposed to be a joke or something?

Frowning as he walked into the kitchen, Harry tossed the other envelopes at his aunt without looking before taking a seat. Ignoring his aunt and uncle as they started ranting about how ungrateful he was, the young dark haired boy put the university letters to one side was he opened the strange letter.

Dear Mr Potter,

We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…

He stopped reading after the first line, holding the obviously joke letter from the Dursleys and frowning at them.

"Ha-ha, very funny. I'm leaving in a few weeks anyway, you don't need to send fake acceptance letters to a made up school."

Without bothering to wait for their reactions, Harry screwed up the letter and tossed it over his shoulder and into the kitchen bin before turning to his real letters.

XXX

Harry would give his relatives credit, if nothing else they were persistent.

Over the next week Harry received another twenty letters, all saying the same thing and all binned before he bothered to finished them. His aunt and uncle even played the part of acting like they didn't send the letter, going so far as to act like they were trying to stop them arriving.

After his uncle nailed the letter box shut, the letters were left on the porch. When that didn't seem to work, the letters were shoved through the windows left open in the night to let the cool air into the house. Then the day before hundreds of the letters came shooting out of the chimney like a garden hose. Harry ignored them all and didn't stop his uncle from burning them all before bricking up the fireplace.

He didn't know why they were still trying to pull the joke or whatever the letters were about, normally when he called them out they would just drop things like this and pretend not to have done anything to begin with.

That night he decided to read in his cupboard, not even keeping track of the time as it drew closer to midnight, his birthday. The book was an English to German dictionary, Harry decided to learn the language out of boredom to go with the other three he knew. He had learned French when he was six, Spanish when he was eight and Japanese when he was nine.

He also had plans to learn Chinese eventually, maybe Finish if he was ever bored enough. Harry didn't like having nothing to do, his mind needed something to work on. It was like a constant inch that could only be scratched by leaning something new.

The sound of someone banging on the front door broke him from his reading, unknown to him the time had just reached midnight exactly.

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT AT THIS HOUR!"

The banging continued constantly for about ten seconds before the enraged yell of his uncle reached him, shortly followed by even louder stomping over his head as the man ran down the stairs. Harry could almost see his purple face, that one vein on his forehead bulging dangerously.

He decide to try and ignore it in favour of his book, though it wasn't easy.

Harry ignored the shouting at the front door as whoever was arguing with his uncle, a woman and a man from the sound of the voices, reached his ears through the door. But after several minutes passed and they were still being loud and distracting Harry had enough, it sounded like his aunt had joined in now too, and banged on the locked cupboard door.

"Will you people shut the hell up? I'm trying to read in here!"

For a moment it seemed to actually work as all sound outside stopped instantly, only for it to start back up again a moment later followed by the sound of feet stomping towards his cupboard. They stopped outside the door and Harry could suddenly hear them clearly now.

"You locked him in a cupboard!"

That was the unknown woman's voice, and now she was closer Harry was able to hear the slight Scottish accent in her words.

"It's none of your ruddy business! Now get out of my house this instant!"

Uncle Vernon, and from the sounds of it he was at danger level purple.

"You stupid Muggle, how dare you lock him in there!"

That was the other voice he didn't know, it was very deep and ruff, the words a little hard to follow in places. There was a loud bang and Harry felt the vibrations of something large hitting a wall, followed by his aunt screaming.

He then heard the lock click, then the door swung open to show two very odd people.

The first was an older woman looking to be in her mid-fifties, dressed in what looked like dark green robes and a pointed hat on her heat. Behind her was the largest man Harry had ever seen in his life, dressed in poor stitched together animal furs with a beard and long black hair covering most of his face.

For a moment the three merely looked at each other, the giant with a confused face, the woman with a mixture of anger and sadness and finally Harry glancing over his book with a bored expression as he took the two of them in.

When several second passed without either of them saying anything, Harry lowered his book slightly so they could see his frown before speaking.

"What the hell do you want, I'm busy in case you didn't notice…?"

His words seemed to brake the woman out of her thoughts, though the giant was still looking confused.

"Mr Potter, I am Professor McGonagall and this is Rubeus Hagrid. We are here because you did not respond to our letter."

"Which letter? Oxford? Cambridge? You claim to be a Professor so I assume you are a teacher of some sort, though the fact you would come here in the middle of the night just because I didn't reply to you is a little odd."

Frowning at his words, the now named McGonagall pulled out a familiar letter and held it out to him.

Harry didn't make any move to take it, merely raising an eyebrow at the woman and putting his book down for a moment.

"So you're the ones sending me the joke letter? And here I thought it was my aunt and uncle. Should have known they weren't smart enough to pull it off when the letters came shooting out the fireplace."

"Mr Potter I assure you this is no joke."

Still looking board Harry shrugged his shoulder and took the letter offered to him, before pointing at the first line.

"'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'? Am I supposed to believe in magic because you send me some letters and turn up in a pointy hat?"

His words seemed to only confuse the woman, her lips thinning into a frown and her eyes narrowing as she seemed to be thinking something over. When she finished, McGonagall let out a deep sigh before motioning him to follow her into the living room.

"It would seem Mr Potter that we are in need of a little talk…"

XXX

An hour later Harry found himself walking out of Private Drive following McGonagall and Hagrid, a bag with the books he was till reading slung over his shoulder.

The conversation had been…enlightening, to say the least.

McGonagall had started it off my pulling out a wand of all things and turning the setae into a horse, before turning it back with a flick. Needless to say, she had gotten Harry's attention. After that she went on to explain about the Wizarding world, Hogwarts and even some things about his parents. Turns out they both went to Hogwarts to learn magic too.

After that Harry agreed to go to Hogwarts, after all he could go to university later in life, the only reason he was going to go before was boredom. Magic sounded interesting if nothing else, maybe it would be harder for him to learn then other things. He was told to pack anything he wanted to take with him, before they passed the still unconscious form of his uncle slumped against the hallway wall on the way out as his aunt coward next to him.

Turns out the loud noise he had heard before was the sound of his uncle bouncing off the now dented wall when Hagrid had pushed him out of the way for trying to stop them going to his cupboard.

Once outside he was offered the McGonagall's hand as Hagrid walk over to a large Motorbike saying he would seem them both at Hogwarts, and the moment he took it Harry felt like he was being squeezed through a straw. It was a very uncomfortable sensation, and as it was happening the world seemed to spin around him in random and undistinguishable blurs. But the moment it stop and the dizziness wore off Harry found himself in a completely different place then where they had been a moment ago.

He was now stood outside a rundown looking pub, it a sign claiming it to be the 'Leaky Cauldron'.

So that was what teleportation was like…interesting. He would have to remember the feeling of it, maybe try and recreate it himself at a later date.

Harry silently followed his guide into the pub, his keen eyes taking in every detail as she led him to the bar and spoke with a hunchbacked man with only three teeth in his smiling mouth. There were several people drinking even at the early hour, all dressed in robes of various colours. The glasses behind the bar were floating around before being cleaned by a floating rag and moving to the shelves on the back wall.

'Very efficient'

Nodding to himself, Harry tuned back into what McGonagall was saying again just in time hear her booking a room for him to stay in until he was meant to get the train to Hogwarts. Guess he wasn't going to be seeing the Dursleys for a while then…the thought brought a small smile to his face.

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The next morning Harry was woken up by the sound of someone knocking on his door, followed by the slightly muffled voice of Professor McGonagall. Quickly shaking off his sleepiness Harry stretched for a moment before calling out and saying he would be out after getting dressed.

After thinking about what his temporary guide had told him last night before he went to sleep, Harry decided that it would be easier to dress in a way that made it harder to recognise him. This mostly just meant putting an old red cap on to cover his scar, and keeping his head down so people wouldn't see his face.

Hearing that he was credited for the killing of a 'Dark' wizard as a baby honestly made Harry wonder out the Wizarding world's intelligence as a whole. Who in their right mind would think that a baby could kill someone that was reported to have killed hundreds of people, both women and children included?

Even with the little amount of information McGonagall had given him on the subject Harry could tell it was more likely something his parents had done that had killed the man, so why was it he was credited for it? Either this 'Wizarding World' was a bunch of idiots or they were a bunch of sheep following the words of a Shepard, not that there was really much difference between the two options as far as he was concerned

Though the information that his scar was because he was hit with a curse that should have killed him like every other person it had hit was interesting and he would have to look into it later.

After a quick breakfast provided by Tom the barman he had met last night, McGonagall led him to the back of the pub. They came out into a small alley that smelled like puke, but the older woman simple ignored it and tapped her wand on the back wall. The air was filled with the sound of grinding bricks, and Harry watched with his normal bored expression slightly lessened as the bricks started to fold back on themselves until it became a small archway.

One the other side of the archway was a busy street with people walking around between the different shops without a care in the world, all dressed in robes with pointy hats on their heads.

As he was lead through the archway and listened to McGonagall telling him the place was called Diagon Alley, Harry absently wondered why he didn't hear any of the noises from the street before the wall had opened up.

He already knew their first stop was going to be the large bank at the end of the street, another fact the Professor had gone over with him before he went to bed, but as they walked towards it Harry's eyes moved from one shop to another and took everything he could in. He had already spotted a bookshop and planned to spend quite a lot of time looking through their selection.

Just because they were given a list of books they would need for school didn't mean he couldn't get a few extra to read in his spare time.

The bank itself when they reached it was impressive, a large white marble monolith with gold to show both power and wealth. The white marble steps leading up towards a pair of large intimidating doors with armed guards stood either side, the axe staffs in their hands standing almost two feet taller than the guards themselves. Then there was the actual guards, both short creatures with pale skin and long hooked noises. Long fingers wrapped around the shafts of their weapons ending in inch long claws, and their bodies covered in polished metal armour.

Harry stood over a head taller than both, yet knew they could kill him in a second without trying.

McGonagall had also told him about these creatures, or rather warned him about them. Goblins, a warrior like race with a fondness for riches of any sort and very short tempers. While there had been animosity between them and the wizards in the past, though even now it was not fully gone, they were now the Bankers of the Wizard world. They guarded the wealth of wizards and witches, and were given a lot of leeway to do so.

Apparently the bank itself worked in a way similar to an Embassy in the Muggle world in that it was considered foreign soil and therefore of out the controlling governments jurisdiction, allowing the goblins to use any security they wished even if the country the bank was based in declared the method illegal. Of course there were a few exceptions that the Goblins agreed to, but for the most part they were left to their own devises.

Honestly from what little he had been told of the goblins by Professor McGonagall, Harry like them already. She told him they didn't like to mince words so the best method was to just talk straight with them, they were practical, but enjoyed making people they didn't like squirm and were all too happy to remind people that were out of line where they stood.

The bank wasn't too busy when they arrived because it was still early, and they were able to walk straight up to a teller without waiting in line. The Goblin behind the counter was examining a pile of rubies one at a time with a jewellers magnifying glass held to his eye, at least Harry assumed it was a male, he didn't know enough able to species to be 100% sure. He also seemed to be ignoring them even after McGonagall cleared her throat in an attempt to get its attention.

After five minutes of this, Harry got bored.

"Hey guy behind the counter ignoring us, do your bloody job already. I have better things to do then stand here, watching you figure out that only half of the rubies in that pile are real.

His words seemed to finally get the attention of the Goblin, along with several others that had been passing them. He looked from the pile of stones on his desk to Harry, a small frown on its lips with several sharp teeth pocking out slightly.

"You have a sharp eye young wizard, how could you tell that some of them are fake?"

His voice was surprisingly deep for such creature, and as he spoke the goblin leaned forward slightly to get a better look at him.

With his face still set in a bored expression, Harry reached over and grabbed two of the Rubies from the pile, one fake and the other real before holding them up to the slight. He also ignored the shocked faces of the people around him at the fake he had just taken the stones from right under the Goblins nose.

He head the stones in such a way that the light shown thrown them and hit the desk in two separate spots, one being a slightly paler red then the other.

"The way the light shines through them, the real Ruby is the darker blood like red. The fake is paler because the light travels through it easier."

Putting the two stones back on the counter, Harry then pulled the key McGonagall had given him last night out of his pocket and placed it on the desk between them.

"Now can I go to my bloody vault and take some money out, I have a lot to do and standing here waiting for you to stop ignoring me is a waste of time."

For about a minute the goblin just stared at Harry, as if trying to see something, before finally a smirk crossed his lips.

"GripHook!"

Another goblin came running over, his little tailed suit wrinkling slightly in his rush before he stopped next to Harry's leg.

"Yes chief Ragroc?"

"Take this young wizard to his vault."

"Yes sir!"

XXX

Fifteen minutes later after two very high speed cart rides, Harry and McGonagall left Gringotts Bank. Harry had paid for a special pouch that was bigger on the inside and could only be opened by him that he tied to his belt, absently wondering who it didn't feel any heavier than it would if empty. The pouch itself was black leather, with a golden inlay of a G inside a circle to identify it was a Gringotts pouch.

As they got to the bottom of the steps McGonagall let out a tired sigh, before turning to him with a frown on his face.

"What did I tell you about being polite Mr Potter, you almost gave me a heart attack, speaking to a Goblin in such a manner."

Harry merely shrugged without looking at her, finding more interest in the many shops lining the street.

"He was wasting both our time by ignoring us, I merely called him out. Besides, it worked didn't it?"

"It was still very reckless, I expect better from you."

"Based on the fact I have only known you since last night, you have no reason or right to expect anything from me."

That seemed to shut her up, for the moment at least. Harry honestly just wanted to get on with his shopping, because as soon as McGonagall left he would be able to get some of his own done.

The next hour was spent moving from one shop to another, collecting his school supplies one at a time. The first stop had been to get a trunk, though Harry intended to return after McGonagall left to have a look at some of the more heavily charmed ones. Having a whole room fit inside a box would be very useful, he was sure.

Then they bought his Potions supplies from a rather…unpleasant smelling shop.

There had been a slight issue getting his robes, mostly because Harry couldn't understand the appeal wearing them and had tried to talk his way out of getting any. But in the end it was the school uniform and he wasn't given a choice, just another shop for him to come back to later in the hopes of finding something more to his taste.

By the end of the hour they had only two more stops to make.

The first was for Harry to see if any of the animals in a pet store caught his eyes, and the other was to get his wand. Harry decided to look at the animals first.

The shop selling the different animals smelt almost as bad as the apothecary, and was a lot darker inside to accommodate its nocturnal occupants. McGonagall had decided to stay outside while he looked around with his shopping, muttering something under his breath that Harry didn't catch.

For such a small shop, a lot had been packed inside. Handing from the roof were what looked like hundreds of bird cages of different sizes, with just about every species of Owl inside them. There were tanks running along the ground holding large toads, some Harry recognised as defiantly not being native to England. Then there were other cages stacked on top of each other with cats inside, all different sizes and colures.

There were other animals too, a take with several snakes, a hawk mixed in with the owls handing from the roof, and others that Harry could not identify that he could only assume were magical in nature.

He walked slowly through the shop, being careful not to hit his head on any of the hanging cages. At one point a snow white owl caught his eyes, but Harry shuck his head after a moment of thought and carried on.

"Caw!"

It was then his attention was brought to a loud sound at the very back of the store, where a single cage was sitting on a table. Inside the cage was a large Raven, though it was bigger than the average for its species. It's feathers were a pure inky with a touch of dark purple at the ends, and its beady black eyes seemed to shin with an intelligence that was missing in the owls he had seen in the store with the exception of the white one before.

Moving closer to get a better look Harry tilted his head to the left slightly, the Raven following the movement as he leaned closer until his nose was only an inch from the cage.

"I wouldn't get too close to that one if I was you lad, she's got a wicked temper and a sharp beck to match. Had a piece out of everyone that's got too close that one…"

Frowning slightly, Harry backed away and turned to see an elderly woman with silver hair and pale blue eyes standing behind him. She wore simple close fitting clothes with a leather apron over them, along with thick gloves. He could also see several cuts on her face and exposed parts of her arm, leading him to believe her to be the owner of the shop.

"Can I see her outside of the cage?"

The woman's eyes narrowed slightly at him and seem to size him up with a glace, something that had been happening a lot to him today. After staying silent for a moment she shrugged and pulled a wand out from behind her apron, waving it at the cage and opening the lock without taking a step closer.

"It's on your head is she bites you lad, honestly if I can't sell her soon I'll have to…"

Whatever the woman was going to say trailed off as Harry opened the cage door and the raven jumped out and landed on his wrist, her eyes widening slightly when it didn't attack him. Harry slowly brought the bird up so she was in front of his face, carefully running a finger down the back of her neck.

"Well I'll be…"

"Caw!"

Moving a little closer, the shop owner flinched back when the raven turned to her and tried to bite her hand when it moved to close.

"Bloody bird, don't know what you're doing lad, but if you want her she's yours for five Galleon with the cage thrown in."

Moving his hand so the raven could hop to his shoulder, Harry nodded to the woman but made no move for the cage.

"Three Galleon, but without the cage. You already said you haven't been able to sell her, and I don't need a cage. Though if you sell it I will take some feed for her."

The owner frowned, but after a moment nodded her agreement and moved to grab a bag he assumed was the food.

"Fine, at this point I'll be glad to see the back of the little terror."

After paying for both the raven and bag of food, Harry left the store with the bird still on his shoulder. He ignored the look McGonagall sent to both him and his new friend as they came into view.

"A very odd choice Mr Potter, most prefer owls. Do you have a name for it?"

"She a female Professor, and I was thinking of naming her Poe after one of my favourite poets."

The name got a quiet caw and an affectionate rub against his head from the bird, which Harry took to mean she liked the name. McGonagall didn't comment, though Harry saw the calculating look in her eyes when she saw them interacting.

They quickly made their way to get the last item on his list needed before McGonagall left, his wand from Ollivander's.

Like most of the other shops in Diagon Alley Ollivander's looked small on the outside, though Harry was quickly picking up on the fact that most were bigger on the inside then should be possible. The windows were dirty and covered in a thin layer of dust, and the sign above the door was old and faded.

McGonagall stayed outside again as he went in.

As he stepped inside Harry was hit by the small of different kinds of wood and oil, and the few rays of light that made it through the windows showed the air was thick with dust. The only other light in the room came from a small oil lamp resting on the counter, which was actually the only thing in the shop other than the shelves behind it stacked with thousands of small boxes, some cardboard and other wooden.

"Caw!"

He didn't know why or how, but for some reason the moment Poe let out a squawk Harry understood the warning she was giving him and turned to see that there was a man stood behind him next to the door.

He was a very old man though Harry couldn't begin to guess at his exact age, with shoulder length wiry grey hair and a wrinkled face. His hands were bony and covered in small scares long healed, and his eyes were an almost milky blue that made Harry wonder if the man was blind.

However it was proven he wasn't when his eyes moved from Poe still perched in his shoulder to Harry's face, before flicking up to his covered scar.

"A smart bird you have there Mr Potter, she will be a good familiar to you in the years to come I am sure."

Decided not to put the familiar comment to the back of his mind for the moment for later, Harry narrowed his eyes at the man who he assumed was the 'famous wand maker' Ollivander as McGonagall had referred to him.

"You know who I am then?"

The man merely chuckled as he walked passed him and move around to the other side of the counter.

"I remember every wand I have ever sold Mr Potter, including your own parents. I have been expecting you for many years now…"

Interesting, so the old man claimed to remember every wand he had ever sold. If true it was an impressive feat.

"I see…I guess there is little point in pleasantries then as I am sure you understand why I am here. Though I do not know the process involved in choosing a wand."

"Ah, well then first let me explain something to you Mr Potter, you do not choose your wand, it chooses you."

The statement got a raised eyebrow from Harry as he walked closer to the old man, leaning on the surprisingly dust free counter.

"I see, would you mind explaining that to me a little more."

The man gave him a calculating look for a moment, before a small smile crossed his old lips.

"Normally when once so young as you asks me that question I would merely say that the reason is unknown, but I have a feeling you will be able to understand. Every wand has its own personal magical signature, almost like a personality if you will. For a wizard to be able to use a wand, their own magic must be a close enough match with that of the wand or the magic will not be as effective."

Throughout the explanation Harry had been nodding his head, his mind filing it away for closer consideration later.

"I see…so is it a simple matter of elimination until you find a match, or is there an actual spell to find a matching magic signature between a wizard and wand.

"Process of elimination I am afraid, there has yet to be a spell capable of matching a wizard and their wand invented."

With those words Ollivander turned his back to Harry and moved to grab several boxes from the shelves behind him, using his wand to get the ones too high for him to reach. Over an hour later they were still trying to find a wand that would accept him without success.

The first wand he had been handed was 10' and made from Rosewood with a dragon heartstring, but the moment it touched his skin the wand had grown too hot for him to hold and harry was forced to drop it. This was followed by a 12' Dogwood with a Unicorn tail hair, which had actually jumped out of his hand on its own accord.

Every wand they tried refused him, and with every wand that failed Ollivander seemed to be getting more and more excited. More and more boxes were stacked on each other as time went on, and Harry was starting to get bored again. While the process had caught his attention in the beginning it was getting annoying.

"Well Mr Potter I must admit it was been many years since I have had so much trouble matching a wand to its wizard…I wonder though…"

"Caw!"

The old man was about to turn around to find another wand for Harry to try when he paused at the sight of Poe flying from Harry's shoulder and into the back of the store, disappearing between the shelves. The old wand maker sent a look to Harry who merely shrugged, before slowly moving to follow the raven.

The man returned a few moments later with a new box in his hands, Poe perched on top of it seeming without a care in the world. It was one of the wooden wand boxes, covered in a dark brown varnish with black veins covering it and brass hinges.

Harry took note of the mixture of surprise and confusion on Ollivander's face as he set the box gently on the counter, Poe flying back to Harry's shoulder when it was place in front of him.

"I must admit it has been many a year since I have even thought of this wand, let alone seen it. It was one of the first I had ever made, back when I was more…adventurous in my wand craft and wanted to experiment with more outlandish combinations. But it seems that your familiar has gone to the trouble of leading me to it, so I feel it is worth a try…"

There was that word again, Harry would need to look for a book on the subject when he went shopping on his own the next day. Before he could spend any more time thinking on the matter though, Ollivander flipped the box open. The wand sat on a cushion of dark purple, resting comfortable in what looked to Harry like silk, and he listened absently as the man told him the details of the wand.

"13' made from Elder wood taken from a tree on its 13th year of life, I remember cutting the branch myself when I was a young man. Its core is also one of a kind to my knowledge, I know I have never used it myself since. Thestral tail hairs, again 13 of them, taken from the first I had ever seen after the death of a dear friend of mine. Honestly I know not why I felt compelled to create this wand, and thought I would never see the day it find an owner."

Still not taking the wand, Harry's eyes moved to the old wand maker's face with a curious expression.

"Why is that?"

"The number 13 Mr Potter is considered one of the 'magical number' but like with Muggle's is considered terrible luck. Elder wood is also considered bad luck as it is connected to Death through an old Wizard legend, so is not used in many wands. Finally is the core itself, Thestrals are a horse-like creature that can only be seen by a person that has seen death with their own eyes. While naturally a harmless race if not provoked it is for that reason they are also avoided…"

Harry was starting to understand why the old wand maker seemed a little uncomfortable with the wand, it sounded like a bad luck magnet.

Without hesitation Harry reached forward and took the wand, holding it up in front of him.

The moment the wand was in his hand Harry felt a warm sensation moving up his arm, before quickly spreading throughout his body. The wood began to vibrate gently in his hand and the tip lit up with a pale blue light that while small, was able to brighten up the entire room with ease before fading back to normal.

When Harry looked back at Ollivander, the man seemed to have a mixture of wonder and fascination on his face.

"My my Mr Potter, in all my years…I had lost hope of this wand every finding its owner. I think I will now be expecting to hear great things from you my boy…great things…"

XXX

Hope you like the chapter, let me know what you think :)