"You've got a future quidditch star there!" A man's voice laughed, carrying loudly through the air.

Dahlia spun a bit on the cobbled path she found herself on before she spotted the house before her. Which was strange, because she almost always was within the house at the start of her dreams. She'd exit it from time to time out into a thick and foggy wood but that wasn't where she was now. No, now she was standing in what seemed to be a front garden to the house she'd visited so often in her dreams. Looking about, the woods seemed further away as well.

And there were voices coming from within, and not the usual ones she was used to hearing in her dreams.

"I swear if he falls off that thing it's your head, Sirius!" a woman's voice— the one Dahlia recognizes instantly as one of the usual voices of her dreams— chastises though it holds a lightness to it that makes Dahlia think she's not overly concerned or cross with the man.

Dahlia moves along the cobbled path towards the door of the house. Some windows look into the ground floor but she can only make out the faint movement of figures through the glass. Details all lost to the frosted look of it.

"Harry's already a natural dear!" the man often accompanying the woman's voice in Dahlia's dreams calls out in reply, "No need to worry over him falling."

Another new mans voice, different than first speaks next, softer but no less jovial than the first. "I seem to recall you falling plenty over the years, Prongs."

"I object to that assessment! I've never fallen from a broom in my life, Moony." The familiar mans voice states, sounding rather playfully offended. It made Dahlia smile just slightly, and she moved quicker to grab at the front door and enter.

But as her hand touches the metal doorknob she blinks and in a moment of disorientation finds herself not out front any longer but up the stairs in a child's bedroom. She can still hear the conversation from the sitting room though, and starts her way in that direction.

"Now what have I told you about lying around the children," the woman's voice teased, "we want our kids to be the honest sort don't we?"

The familiar man—Prongs he'd been called, which seems an odd name to Dahlia— scoffed as Dahlia made her way from the bedroom and towards the stairs. "The pair of you, always teaming up against me. Quite unfair." Dahlia can hear the softer-spoken man laughing.

"I'd say you deserve it, considering that when the three of us got here your daughter was disappeared." The laughing man remarks, which earns a groan from Prongs.

"She loves that bloody cloak," he bemoans, "almost as much as she loves my wand."

"Well maybe you should stop handing them over so willingly," the softer man remarks. Dahlia steps onto the stairs and starts her way down. She notices absently that they creak as she moves making her move with more care, afraid of being to loud as though it would startle the voices away.

"Like you can say no to her any better, Moony." Prongs admonishes, "I see you over there sneaking my daughter chocolates. Gonna make her as fat as my nephew looked in that photo if you keep that up."

"James," the woman's voice warns and Dahlia stops in her creeping steps down the stairs, blinking at the name. "No need to be rude."

The man was James, and they'd mentioned Harry earlier. Dahlia blinks a bit more, trying to process it all. So the voices were their parents, they have to be. She'd never seen them before, not in the dreams. The voices had always been in another room, she'd never been able to get in the same one as them to see the source.

She desperately wanted to see the sources of these voices now.

"Is it really rude if they're not here to hear it?"

"Listen to your wife there, Prongs, don't want to be getting in trouble." The laughing man teases and Dahlia starts back down the stairs, quicker in her pace.

"Enough with this," the woman— who Dahlia is near certain now is her mother— states, "I've got the cake all ready." And soon enough Dahlia was down the stairs and turning towards the sitting room where the voices could now be heard singing Happy Birthday. But as she turned the corner about to step within she woke up.

It was Harry shaking her shoulder, and she blinks blearily even though she felt plenty awake despite having just been asleep. Hagrid was sat up on the sofa stretching. "Best be off, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Dahlia was still coming awake from her dream but now she was recalling, school. Hogwarts. Somehow that all felt more of dream than what she'd seen of her parents. Dahlia sat up fully beside Harry and felt desperately like she wanted to tell him all about what she'd dreamt but he was looking rather sheepishly at some weird bronze coins in his hands.

"Um— Hagrid?" Harry calls.

"Mm?" Hagrid was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money— and you heard uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for us to go and learn magic." Dahlia frowns at that all, because Harry was right. They didn't have any money between them, they couldn't even afford a chocolate bar. How were they supposed to afford the list of supplies and books that had been in that letter?

"Don't worry about that," Hagrid tells them, seeming rather unconcerned with their poorness as he stood up in the space and scratches his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed—" Dahlia speaks up, the image of the house of her dreams with the nice front garden present in her head as she tried to imagine it destroyed like it apparently had been.

"They didn' keep their gold in the house. Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, both of yeh, they're not bad cold— an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither." Harry grabs a piece of sausage while Dahlia grabs the cake instead, feeling rather like she was in the mood for chocolate.

She then hands Hagrid some cake while Harry asks, "wizards have banks?"

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

Harry drops a bit of his sausage and Dahlia blinks her eyes wide. "Goblins?" the both exclaim. Though she supposes she should try to stop being surprised by the things that were real that she previously thought just fantasy.

"Yeah— so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, yeh two. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe— 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid seems rather proud of it. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you — gettin' things from Gringotts —- knows he can trust me, see." Hagrid stands and moves towards the door, waving along the twins to follow as he says, "got everythin'? Come on, then."

The boat they'd ridden over in was still there, a bit of water in it from the storm that had now cleared out into a sky free of clouds and full of sunlight gleaming down upon the sea. "How did you get here?" Dahlia asks, not seeing another boat that could have brought Hagrid along.

"Flew," Hagrid says.

"Flew?" both Harry and Dahlia question, eyes wide.

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh two." The three of them settle into the boat, which sunk a bit deeper on Hagrid's side but seemed sturdy enough to hold them still.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," Hagrid says, giving them a side-ways look. "If I was ter— er— speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

The twins both shook their heads and Harry replied rather eagerly, "Of course not." Dahlia and him both watched with rapt attention as Hagrid brought back out his pink umbrella and tapped it twice against the boat causing them to speed off towards land.

Dahlia laughs a bit, leaning towards the edge of the boat and feeling a bit of seawater spray against her face. Hagrid was pulling out a newspaper while Harry glances over at his sister before turning back to the giant.

"Why would you be mad to try an rob Gringotts?" he asks as Hagrid unfolds his newspaper.

"Spells— enchantments," Hagrid says. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults." Dahlia looks back at Hagrid, dragons? Absolutely mad, absolutely wonderful. "And then yeh gotta find yer way— Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on something." Harry sat back a bit in silence as Hagrid started to read and Dahlia glances over at her brother, maybe now'd be a good enough time as any to tell him about her dream. Hagrid was busy reading the paper, which both of them had learned is a time most don't want to be disturbed if Uncle Vernon was to be believed. Though, Dahlia was loathe to ever believe anything Uncle Vernon ever told them after last nights revelations.

Before she gets a chance to bring up her dream to Harry, Hagrid is muttering, "Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual."

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asks and Dahlia sighs and settles back into her spot leant against the edge of the boat knowing she'd lost her chance.

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

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?" Harry asks. Dahlia figures its the same as the muggle government does but she doesn't bring that up.

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

"Why?" Dahlia asks.

"Why? Blimey, Dahlia, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems." Dahlia nods lightly, seeing the logic in that well enough. "Nah, we're best left alone."

The boat them rocks up to the harbor wall and Hagrid folds up his newspaper. The three of them clambering up the stone steps onto the street. As they walk through the little town to the station plenty of passerby stare at Hagrid, which made more than a bit of sense. Hagrid was quite the sight, twice as tall as anyone else and kept pointing at different things saying "see that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?" It all made Dahlia smile as they walked.

"Hagrid," Harry says, the pair of the twins both panting a bit as they had to move quick to keep up with the giants steps. "Did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

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

"You'd like one?" Harry asks incredulously.

"I think it'd be fun," Dahlia says, linking her arm with Harry as they reach the station.

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

There was a train to London soon, and Hagrid gave the money to Harry and her with the explanation that he didn't much understand 'muggle money' as he called it. More people stared in the train station as Hagrid took up two seats and knitted, soon enough though he asked after the twins' letters and they each pulled the pieces of parchment out and look them over to see the list of all they'll need.

It was a lot of stuff it seemed. Robes and cloaks and a hat (pointed which Dahlia found rather funny when she tried to picture it). As well as eight books total and a few other odd equipment like a wand and cauldron. She noticed at the bottom a warning that first years weren't allowed a broomstick and she was once again reminded of her dream.

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry asks.

"If yeh know where to go," Hagrid tells them before they get up when their train arrives. The ride to London Hagrid sat in his two seats and continued to knit and Dahlia finally took the time to lean against Harry.

"I had another dream," she starts, fiddling with the edge of the parchment.

"Woods or house?" he asks, looking at her.

"House. But it was different from the others." She informs him, "felt more real almost." She folds the parchment over, "more voices as well."

"Really?" Harry turns more fully to look at her, curiosity clear upon his face.

"And…" she pauses a second, "and I'm positive now, it's our parents, Harry." She whispers it, because despite how much she likes, and trusts, Hagrid she's not told anyone but Harry about her strange dreams since her aunt grounded the pair of them the one time she did. She'd much rather keep this all between them.

"Really?" Harry asks, eyes wide and Dahlia felt a pang of wishing once again that she could share her dreams with Harry so he'd hear them too. She settles instead for relaying it all as best she can to him, telling her about the other voices and what they talked about and how she thinks it was their first birthday perhaps.

"Do you think it was a memory?" Harry whispers after she's finished.

"Maybe," she shrugs before sighing and settling back against his shoulder. "I was rather close to seeing them. I was just outside the room…"

"You've never seen them in your dreams before though," Harry says. "Just heard them."

"True," she sighs again and they feel the train slowing as they near London. "But I've seen people before in other dreams like them. Like when I saw you break your leg."

"But I didn't break my leg that day." He tells her.

"Only cause I saw it the night before in my dream." She sits up and reminds him, "I don't know what it all is Harry. I just know that it was our parents this morning and that it felt different than usual." She pauses, "more like the time I saw you break your leg. More real feeling."

Harry nods but doesn't get a chance to say any more as they arrive in London and follow Hagrid from through the city until they get to a rather grubby looking pub that Hagrid tells them is an apparently famous place called The Leaky Cauldron.

It didn't look like the sort of place that was famous to Dahlia. Not from the outside that most seemed to hurry past, and not from the inside that was dark and shabby. There were a few people within drinking, and all of them seemed to know Hagrid; waving and smiling at him.

The bartender, an older man who'd gone bald, reached for a glass as they passed and says "the usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," Hagrid says clapping a hand on both of the twins shoulders and making them buckle a bit with the force.

The bartender peers at the pair of them, getting a bit more stuck on Harry with wide eyes. "Good Lord," he says, "is this— can this be—?"

The whole of the Leaky Cauldron has gone still and silent and Harry shrinks a bit and Dahlia glances at him worriedly. "Bless my soul," the bartender, Tom, whispers. "Harry Potter… what an honor." He hurries out from behind the bar and before Harry can do a thing he's grabbed his hand with tears to his eyes. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back." He shakes his hand.

Dahlia scoots just the smallest bit closer to her brother who seems quite struck and unsure at the attention pointed their— more specifically his— way. Hagrid was beaming at Harry like he was proud and soon enough all the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron were rushing up to them and shaking her brothers hands. "You must be Dahlia then," Tom says looking at her and shaking her hand as well, "we're all happy to have the Potter twins back where they belong amongst the wizarding world."

It was rather strange feeling, how much more interested they all seemed over Harry. It was a foreign feeling as they'd grown up rather attached. The Dursley's treating them always the same, horribly, but the same. Now it seemed in the wizarding world that Harry was one of the most famous figures, and Dahlia wasn't quite as popular.

She doesn't believe she minds it. Not really. But she does mind how flustered with the attention Harry looks so she quickly settles herself beside him and holds onto one of his arms to grant him some familiarity and so she's there if someone makes him too uncomfortable.

Plenty of folk introduced themselves and shook his hand, one of which the twins recognized as a man that had bowed at Harry when they'd gone to a shop once with Aunt Petunia. The man, Dedalus Diggle he was named (rather odd name to Dahlia), was flustered at Harry remembering him.

One of the men they met, a pale young man who seemed rather nervous and stammered as he spoke, was apparently one of their professors. Hagrid introducing him as Professor Quirrell, who told them he taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was only there a few moments, as the rest of the patrons seemed loathe to let any one hold Harry to themselves and in the end it took near ten minutes before they got away from them all with Hagrid excusing them.

As they move out of the bar and into a small courtyard Hagrid grins at the pair of them, "told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Dahlia asks.

"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 vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag— never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject— now, where's me umbrella." Dahlia stood close to Harry who seemed to be thinking over all Hagrid had said and what had happened as Hagrid muttered some stuff to himself while tapping the point of his umbrella against the brick wall.

Slowly, and rather amazingly, the bricks he touched quivered and wriggled until a hole formed. It grew larger and wider until a second passed and they were facing an archway large enough for all three of them. It led out onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of their sight and Hagrid, who was smiling as usual, says to them "Welcome to Diagon Alley."

The twins both looked through the archway with amazement clear to their face, still linked by the arms they walked through the archway. Harry looked back, watching the doorway they'd stepped through shrink away, while Dahlia continued to stare forward curious as to what the rest will look like.

The sun was shining down on Diagon Alley, the first shop they passed was filled with cauldrons that shone brightly in the sunshine. There were lots of them, all differing sizes and metals. Signs above them listed other features — self-stirring, collapsible— and Hagrid smiles at the twins as they take it all in.

He moves them along though, and though the twins heads both twist and turn to take in it all they walk easily up the street. It was all fascinating, Dahlia caught sight of owls like the one Hagrid had used the night before at a shop, all different breeds. Beyond that a gaggle of boys stood pressed against a window looking at something within while exclaiming about something called a Nimbus Two Thousand. There were shops selling robes, and more cauldrons, and books, and animals, and even some selling telescopes and silver instruments.

Dahlia almost felt overwhelmed, beside her she could tell that Harry was feeling the same way.

Soon enough Hagrid stopped them, "Gringotts," he says. A snowy white building towered before them, much taller than the other shops. Beside the bronze doors was a figure in a uniform of scarlet and gold that Hagrid informed them was a goblin. It was a head shorter than her and Harry, with a clever looking face and a pointed beard.

There were even more goblins when they entered, all sat on high stools at counters, scribbling in ledgers and weighing coins and examine stones. It was all rather rich looking to Dahlia, which she supposed made sense as it was a bank. Some goblins were showing people in and out of the many doors that were along the hall. Hagrid led the twins to the counter.

"Mornin," Hagrid said to a goblin who was not currently busy. "We've come ter take some money outta the Potter's safe."

"You have their key, sir?" the goblin inquired.

"Got it here somewhere," Hagrid says, beginning to empty his pockets onto the counter which made the goblin wrinkle its nose in a way that made Dahlia frown. Though, she supposes at the sight of some moldy dog biscuits she can't blame him too much.

"Got it," Hagrid says finally, holding up a tiny golden key that the goblin leans forward to study closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here form Professor Dumbledore," Hagrid says rather importantly, his chest thrown out a bit with pride. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Dahlia looks curiously between Hagrid and the goblin as the letter was passed, she wondered what You-Know-What was and also why wizards seemed to frequently say You-know-what and You-know-who rather than just saying it true.

It seems Harry's also curious, as after the goblin eventually calls along another to escort them, a goblin named Griphook, and they've started down a hall Harry asks, "what's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

"Can't tell yeh that," Hagrid says mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that." Dahlia frowns a bit but neither she nor Harry press the issue further, because even if she wants to know she doesn't want to get Hagrid into trouble. And maybe she'll be able to catch a glimpse when they head to the vault.

Griphook opened a door for them and they found themselves in what seemed more like a mineshaft than a bank, even more so when the goblin whistles and a cart comes along some tracks that they all then climb into. It was rather like a ride, twisting corners and passages that were near impossible to keep track of as they went. She supposes that's what Hagrid meant when he said one would die of hunger before getting out. It was like an exceedingly complicated maze and she doesn't believe a single bit that she'd be able to find her way out if she got lost within.

They get deeper and deeper, Harry makes some remark about stalagmites and stalactites. Hagrid looked rather ill as they went and when they finally did stop he got out and leant against a wall to keep from trembling.

Harry and Dahlia stepped out as well, while Griphook went ahead and unlocked the door. Some green smoke came billowing out and when it cleared the Potter twins both gasped at the sight before them. Inside of the vault were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, and plenty of bronze as well.

"All yours," Hagrid smiles at the pair of them.

Dahlia and Harry share a look, both rather incredulous at the idea. It was more than they'd ever thought to have for sure, likely more than even the Dursley's had. It made Dahlia laugh a bit, especially when she thought of how the Dursley's certainly didn't have a clue about this fortune because if they had they'd have taken it all. The often complained of the cost of keeping Harry and her, and relegated them to leftovers and hand-me-downs because of it.

But, in truth, it turns out that Harry and her were richer than them.

She wondered if they could use some of it for things other than school supplies. New clothes perhaps, some things for their room at Privet Drive maybe? She supposes that's a worry for another time, and help Harry and Hagrid pile some of it into a bag, enough to last them each the school year. Hagrid explains the coins as he does, telling them the values of each.

Then they are off again, heading deeper into the ground until they reach vault seven hundred and thirteen. Once it was opened both Dahlia and Harry leaned forward to catch a glimpse inside. She'd expected it to be even more filled than their own, because she imagined the deeper the vault the richer the contents. But instead she finds that it's rather empty looking, she fully believes it's empty until she spots a little package on the floor that Hagrid picks up and tucks away.

She and Harry share a look as Hagrid returns to the cart and they start the journey back, she knows that he wants to ask just as much as her what it is but they both keep quiet.

Back on the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley with a bag of money that Dahlia wasn't quiet sure what to do first with, the twins followed the large form of Hagrid until he nodded towards a shop that had a sign denoting it as Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Might as well get yer uniforms," Hagrid tells them, and just from the little mannequins in the storefront windows showing simple black robes with one having pants underneath and the other a simple pleated skirt Dahlia already knew this uniform would be infinitely better than the horrendous smelling grey atrocity that their aunt had been working on in the kitchen a week ago.

"Listen," Hagrid starts as they moved towards the shop, he still looked a bit ill from the cart ride at Gringotts so it was no surprise when he asked, "would yeh two mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." Both Harry and her nod before they enter Madam Malkin's shop just the pair of them.

A woman, a rather squat witch dressed all in mauve with a smile upon her face, spots them as they enter and before they could speak she says to them both, "Hogwarts, dears?" Harry looks puzzled and she adds, "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Dahlia peers to the back of the shop where a pale skinned boy with just a pale blonde hair was stood upon a footstool while another witch worked on pinning up his black robes. Madam Malkin directed Harry upon another stool nearby the blonde boy and began her pinning. Dahlia sat in a cushy chair just next to Harry while she waited for her own turn at it.

The boy peers at the pair of them after a while, and he seems to study her hair before deciding something about it with a shake of his head. "Hello," he greeted, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," Harry said, he was trying to stand as still as possible for Madam Malkin and Dahlia smirked at his carefulness, especially as Madam Malkin moved quickly in her pinning, years of experience clearly making the task easy for her.

"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy had a rather bored sounding drawling voice, like this was all rather mundane and normal for him here. Which, Dahlia supposes, it likely was. Unlike the pair of them this boy had probably grown up with all this odd magic stuff about him. She wonders as he continues on about some brooms how nice it would've been to grow up amongst all this. "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 met Dahlia's gaze and mouthed, where the boy couldn't see, "Dudley." Dahlia shrugs as she supposes the boy did resemble the spoiled nature of their cousin.

"Have either of you got your own broom?" the boy continues on.

"No," Dahlia informs him.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry states this time. And Dahlia wonders vaguely what quidditch is, recalling the voices in her dream having mentioned it.

"I do." He says, and Dahlia does suppose even more that he very much had the spoiled nature of their cousin, though he seemed a bit more haughty the way some of the especially richer kids at their school had seemed. "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?"

"No," Harry says, his voice timid and Dahlia frowns as she knows he's likely feeling stupid for not knowing. But truly, how are either of them supposed to know everything about this world when they've just entered it?

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being a Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Dahlia doesn't know what a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff was but she doesn't imagine being either would truly influence her to leave this world when she's just stepped into it.

"That's you done, my dear." Madam Malkin tells Harry, and he hops down and the pair of them switch spots. Dahlia stands still, though she does look about the shop and smiles when she spots Hagrid stood outside the window with three ice cream cones in delicately balanced in his hands.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy says, clearly also catching sight of Hagrid. Harry looks as well, and smiles at the ice cream same as Dahlia had.

"That's Hagrid," Harry boasts. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," the boy says, a rather disgusted tone to his voice that makes Dahlia frown and glare at him. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry states, also frowning at the boy and clearly not liking him much.

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

"Well for a savage he's certainly better mannered than you," Dahlia snaps, glaring harshly at the boy who looks her direction with a sort of sneer to his face.

The boy glances between the two of them, "Why is he with you two? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," Harry tells him shortly, looking entirely over the conversation.

"Oh sorry," though he didn't sound sorry in the least which only made Dahlia want to stick one of the pins Madam Malkin was using on her robes into him. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you're on about." Dahlia replies curtly.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine." It was taking near everything in Dahlia to not hit the boy and to stay still for Madam Malkin, so she looked away from him hoping he'd finish his talking soon so she'd not have to listen much longer. "I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Thankfully neither of them had to answer and carry on with more conversation with the boy as Madam Malkin patted a hand on Dahlia's arm and told her she was done as well. She couldn't quite move quick enough off the stool. Harry was up quick too, and she looped her arm quickly with his and began pulling him towards the door.

"Well," the boy sounds cross at their quickening departure, "I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

"God I hope not," Dahlia says to Harry, just loud enough that she was sure the boy would hear it and she smiles as they get out of the shop and to Hagrid.

They each get a cone from him, a chocolate and raspberry with nuts chopped atop it in a sugary deliciousness that Dahlia ate rather quickly. Harry was quiet as they ate and Dahlia too preoccupied with savoring the sweet and trying to forget the bratty boy to speak that the three of them were quiet until Hagrid inquired, clearly noticing Harry's slight downward look. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Harry says, though Dahlia peers to him with a knowing look that that's a lie. He shakes his head and she sighs and shrugs before they head into another shop to buy some parchment and quills after finishing their ice creams. She smiles when Harry cheers up a little at a bottle of ink that changes color while you write. They're leaving the shop when Harry finally asks, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

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

Harry frowns and says a bit sadly, "don't make me feel worse." Dahlia links her arm back with Harry and squeezes.

"It's not our fault we don't know everything about it all yet," She states, both to Harry to reassure him and to Hagrid to remind him. Harry then goes on to tell Hagrid about the boy in Madam Malkins.

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

Hagrid interrupts Harry. "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!" Dahlia thought of her mother, and the boy's attitude in the shop. She wondered how many people were horrid to her mother like that boy and wanted to stick him with pins again.

Thankfully Harry changed the subject back to asking about whatever Quidditch is.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like— football 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 about Slytherin and Hufflepuff? What're those?" Dahlia inquires.

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

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," Harry says far too gloomily for Dahlia's liking.

"Who cares what house you're in, Harry," Dahlia squeezes his arm again. "Besides if we are in Hufflepuff then it's likely a great house. I certainly am not going to listen to what that boy says about anything." She huffs, "I mean considering his opinion on it I'm sure it's actually wonderful."

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Hagrid says rather darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one." Dahlia frowns and wonders why a school would have a house that was, if Hagrid was to be believed, all bad.

"Vol-, sorry— You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" Harry asks.

"Years an' years ago," Hagrid tells them.

They did plenty of more shopping, more shopping that Dahlia thinks either of them have ever done for themselves in their whole lives. They'd gone for groceries before with Aunt Petunia, but that wasn't quite the same. They never got stuff for themselves on those trips. Here they're getting all sorts of things, like a whole collection of school books. The pair of them each getting their own copy of each book rather than having to share like in the past. Each book brand new as well as opposed to used copies.

There were lots of other books, ones not on their school list that caught both Harry and Dahlia's eyes. Books like 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) which Dahlia found utterly interesting as a means to deal with Dudley for the rest of summer, or with the bratty boy from Madam Malkins (or any other similarly unlikeable kids at Hogwarts). Hagrid had to drag the pair of them away from it with words about not being allowed to use magic in the muggle world, as well as warnings about not being at the level for those sorts of spells yet.

Yet. Dahlia certainly hoped to get to that level quick.

They then went to buy some other items, including a cauldron, and then they went to an Apothecary which had loads of odd sorts of items. It had an odd, and horrible, smell from the assortment of items available.

When they left that shop Hagrid glanced at their lists again. "Just yer wands left — oh yeah, an' I still haven't got either of yeh a birthday present."

Harry went red and Dahlia glanced down, "You don't have to—" Harry started but Hagrid cut him off.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at— an' I don't like cats, they make me sneeze." Dahlia frowned a bit, she was rather fond of cats though she supposes if its a gift she shouldn't be too fussy. "I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later they leave a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium which had been dark and full of rustling feathers and bright eyes. Hagrid had offered to get them each one of their own but Dahlia had told them it'd be better to share the owl. For one she doubted the Dursley's would tolerate them bringing two owls home, let alone one. But also she thought it would be rather nice, having a pet to share with Harry. She also didn't want to inform Hagrid that she wasn't the biggest fan of birds, while she wasn't as afraid of them as she'd been in the past she was certain she didn't want one as solely her own pet.

Despite her own feelings on birds, the one Harry had picked out was rather pretty looking. A snowy owl that was fast asleep as Harry carried the large cage she sat in. The both of them thanked Hagrid, Harry stammering a bit in in it making him sound a bit like the Professor Quirrell they'd met earlier.

They make their way to the last stop, a wand shop that Hagrid says is the best spot for wands. It was a narrow shop with gold lettering over the door reading Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 b.c. A wand was lying on a faded purple cushion in the window and when they entered a bell tinkled somewhere deeper in the store.

Hagrid sat upon a spindly chair and motioned for Harry and Dahlia to wait. They both looked about the shop, which was small with what must be thousands of narrow boxes piled around them right up to the ceiling. It a bit dusty, and other than that first tinkle of a bell rather quiet. It also made the hair on the back of Dahlia's neck stand on end with a tingly feeling that she wonders might be the very feeling of magic.

"Good afternoon," a soft voice greets, both Harry and Dahlia jumping at the surprise. Hagrid also jumps a bit, standing up from the chair he'd sat in.

Dahlia looks about until her eyes land on the source of the voice, an old man with wide pale eyes that shine through the gloom of the dusty shop.

"Hello," Harry and Dahlia both say.

"Ah, yes." The man nods, "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you both soon. Harry and Dahlia Potter." It wasn't a question the way he said their names. He moves a bit closer and peers at Harry first, "you have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." His gaze then turns to Dahlia, "and you have your fathers eyes. He, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it— it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

He looks once more to Harry, and this time Dahlia noticed that he was looking at Harry's forehead rather than his eyes. "And that's where…" Dahlia frowns as the man touches the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he remarks 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…" Dahlia wonders about wands, the way the man spoke of them it seems much more alive than she'd have otherwise thought.

Mr. Ollivander shakes his head and then spots Hagrid. "Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

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

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" Mr. Ollivander says, sounding suddenly more stern in a way that made Dahlia frown a bit.

"Er— yes, they did, yes." Hagrid shuffles his feet a bit. "I've still got the pieces." He adds.

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

"Oh, no, sir," Hagrid says, though he grips his umbrella tightly as he does.

"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander gives Hagrid a rather piercing look before looking back at the twins. "Well, now— Mr. Potter let us start with you. Let me see." He pulls out a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

Harry looks confused a second before offering, "well, I'm right handed."

"Hold out your arm. That's it." Harry is measured from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round his head. All strange measuring that almost made Dahlia want to giggle though she kept her composure enough, just giving in enough to give Harry a incredulous smile as he stood stiffly again for Mr. Ollivander. Harry smiled a bit though he bit it back while Mr. Ollivander spoke, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand." Ollivander steps away and Dahlia does giggle when the tape measure kept measuring Harry, now between his nostrils.

Mr. Ollivander was now moving about the shelves, taking down boxes and miraculously (or more likely magically) not causing any of the stacks to tumble despite the loss of boxes here and there. "That will do," he says, the tape measure dropping to the floor and then he hands Harry a wand. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one." He describes the wand and Harry waves it about (nearly prompting more giggles from Dahlia, which earns her a glare from Harry though she presses her mouth tight together).

It seems that's not the one, and so he tries another, and another, and even more after that until Mr. Ollivander pulls down one last wand, "I wonder, now — yes why not— unusual combination— holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry takes the wand, looking a bit nervous about another failed wand but once the wand is in his hand he seems to blink and look at it with curiosity. He raises it and brings it down through the air causing a stream of red and gold sparks to shoot from the end like a firework. Dahlia laughs and claps, "Wonderful Harry!"

Hagrid also whoops and claps beside her and Mr. Ollivander cries out his own congrats, "oh bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…" He takes the wand back from Harry and puts it into the box it came from. "Curious… curious…"

"Sorry," Harry says, "but what's curious?" Dahlia looks as well, wondering the same.

Mr. Ollivander fixes Harry with his stare again, "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 the wand when it's brother— why, it's brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallows and Dahlia stares at the narrow box that now held Harry's wand. She wonders how good an idea it is for him to share a wand similar to the one that killed their parents. She wonders what it means.

"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."

Harry shivers, and Dahlia reaches to squeeze his hand.

Mr. Ollivander shook his head again and turns his attentions then to Dahlia. "Now, Ms. Potter. Shall we get started with you now?"

Dahlia wasn't too sure she wanted a wand any longer. But she nods, knowing it's likely a situation where she's got little choice in the matter. And soon enough she's being measured by the same tape Harry was, though she feels quite a bit less the wonder at it all as it moves. The weight of what had been talked about before weighing a bit over her as the tape moves about her and Mr. Ollivander moves about the shelves, pulling down wands for her to try.

The first she tries shocks her like she'd shuffled her feet across carpet. The second makes her sneeze. The next several simply do nothing. She goes through even more wands than Harry had, and Hagrid starts too look rather worried as wand after wand fails.

Mr. Ollivander, for his part, doesn't look too concerned. He looks more puzzled at first, like he's trying to work out some tough maths equation.

It's after trying near two dozen wands and reaching both the absolute top and utter bottom of the stacks of wands that Mr. Ollivander comes before her and studies her close enough that he's nearly nose to nose with her.

"Hmm…" He hums, tapping a finger against his chin. "I wonder…" He glances over his shoulder. "Hagrid?"

"Hmph… Yes?" Hagrid stands back up from where he'd sat down again in the chair somewhere around wand fifteen.

"I need to do some digging about, I'm sure the pair of them could use some early dinner. Come back after and I hopefully will have just the thing I need."

Hagrid glances at Dahlia worriedly but nods. "Alright then," he puts a hand on each of the twins shoulders, "come along then. Let's get yeh both filled up with some food."

They end up sat eating at some wizard café and Harry and Dahlia eat in relative quietness. Dahlia's picking at her food when she finally asks Hagrid, "do you think I'll actually get a wand?"

"Of course yeh will Dahlia," Hagrid assures her. "Every witch and wizard gets a wand."

That doesn't do much to assure her, "what if I'm not enough of a witch? Is that possible? For me not to be magic even though our parents were?"

"If yeh weren't magic yeh'd not've gotten a letter." Hagrid tells her, "it's probably just one of them things."

"Mr. Ollivander didn't seem too worried," Harry tells her, giving her a small smile that she returns.

"What about you, Harry? You all right? You've been very quiet as well," Hagrid inquires.

Harry chews on his food a bit longer, quiet and seemingly trying to gather his words. Dahlia sighs a little and knocks her shoulder against his. "Everyone thinks I'm special," he finally says. "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 our parents died." Dahlia frowns at her food, and wants to hug Harry tight. It was a lot, she wasn't the focus of it but she could feel it. The weight that seemed to be placing itself upon Harry with everyone's expectations.

Hagrid leans forward across the table, behind his wild beard Dahlia could make out a very kind smile that she's come to know from him even in the short time since they met him.

"Don' yeh worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yourself. 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 looked between the twins, "'sides yer hardly alone."

"He's right, Harry." Dahlia smiles, "your not alone, and I'm certainly not going to let you deal with any of this by yourself. Wand or no wand."

Harry returns both their smiles and soon enough they've finished their meal and begin to make their way back to Ollivanders. Hagrid moving them a bit slow to give the wandmaker even more time between when they left and return.

When they enter this time Mr. Ollivander is already up front seemingly waiting for them. He smiles when he spots them and motions for Dahlia, "come along, come along."

She moves forward, still feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole thing and still worrying that she won't actually find a wand. She wonders what will happen if she doesn't.

Mr. Ollivander still seems to hold very little worry regarding this whole situation though. In fact he looks rather excited and happy as he pulls out two boxes from a spot separate from the stacks surrounding them. He examines her closely once more, and then opens them both and looks between them.

Dahlia's own eyes look at the two wands. She gazes over the first, a light wood wand that is the shorter of the two. But she looks at that one only a second before her eyes settle on the second, a darker reddish wood that was just slightly longer. It was smooth and unlike both the other wand and Harry's own was missing a wider handle at the end. Rather it was straight and smooth wood all through it.

"Go on," Mr. Ollivander instructs and she looks to him before reaching out and grasping the smooth red wand.

She holds it, the wood warm against her palm and fingers and giving a slight tingling feeling for a second like when a limb falls asleep. She raises it slowly and swishes it back down through the air the same way that Harry had with his own wand earlier. It doesn't produce firework's like his had, but rather shimmering sparkles fall along the path as she goes. Reminding her a bit of the Fairy Godmothers wand and magic in Cinderella.

Harry claps and smiles brightly at Dahlia who returns it as she rolls the wand between her fingers. "There yeh go!" Hagrid croons, "told yeh it was nothin' to fuss over."

"As I thought," Mr. Ollivander nods.

"What is it?" She asks, warily now as she hopes that it's not as dower as what he thought of Harry's wand. As much as she likes the feel of the wand she doesn't know if she'd want to wield something with ties to some dark wizard or witch that did great and terrible things.

Ollivander takes the wand back and studies it a second, "this wand is eleven inches, mahogany. A phoenix feather core, and quite pliable." Dahlia furrows her brow, at least some of that sounding familiar. "It did have a previous owner, a Mr. James Potter in fact."

Dahlia's brow furrows even further as she looks at the wand before Ollivander packs it away. "That was my fathers?"

"Indeed," the wand maker nods, "wands can, on occasion be passed down in family lines. Though usually its through convenience rather than because the wand outright chose it."

Harry and Hagrid have come closer. "How did you know?" Dahlia asks.

"Well I had a sneaking suspicion because of the reactions from the other wands that you, Ms. Potter, were already spoken for." He finishes packing away the wand and hands the box over to her. She holds it delicately, still processing that it was something her father had owned and used. "I figured it would most likely be one of your parents wands, passed on after they died."

"I would play with it…" Dahlia whispers, recalling her dream once more.

"Yeh reached out to Dumbledore then?" Hagrid questioned Ollivander, covering her voice though Harry had looked at her when she'd spoken.

Mr. Ollivander nods, "yes. Figured he'd have a clue on where they had ended up, he sent them along for me."

"So that one's our mother's?" Harry asks, looking at the second box, it's wand still visible.

"Yes," Ollivander removes it and holds it delicately, "I'll be sending it back along to Dumbledore. I wasn't sure which one had chosen you. It seems it's the one with a bit more power in it."

Dahlia grips the box tighter and feels incredibly light at the thought that she has something that was her fathers. She has half a mind to ask for their mothers as well but figures perhaps there was some special thing done with wands if they weren't inherited.

They pay for both the wands and soon enough make their way from Diagon Alley and back into Muggle London. They make their way through the underground, people staring even more at them with their assortment of stuff that included a sleeping snowy owl in a cage. Dahlia keeps the wand box in her hand the whole way, fiddling with the packaging and wanting desperately to take it out and look at it a bit more just to see if she could see any sort of sign of her father in it.

They get onto the train that will take them back to the Dursley's, Hagrid helping them on and making sure they're both settled before he hands them two envelopes. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he says, "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursley's, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me… see yeh both soon."

Hagrid leaves them, and they both rise to look out the window only to find Hagrid gone after a blink. And sooner than Dahlia would've really liked they found themselves back at Privet Drive and amongst the Dursley's (who hadn't said a word when they'd turned up).

Their birthday ends with Dahlia curled under her covers in her bed, Harry sleeping soundly in the bed next to hers while she turns her wand over and over in her palm studying it's every inch. She settles and falls into sleep eventually, but keeps the one thing she owns that is of their parents gripped in her hand.

Thank you for reading!

Just a note about the little part at the beginning, in canon the other marauders weren't allowed to visit the Potter's while they were in hiding (Harry receiving his gifts through other means) but I've decided to change things because a) it works better this way for my story that I'm telling and b) the story is already gonna have canon changes by virtue of being an OC-fic, might as well change other things if I need to. Just wanted to state all this just in case people think I didn't know that it was different.

Once again thank you so much for reading! Let me know your thoughts!