AN: ...Hello? Anybody still hanging around this graveyard? ...I'm back... I'm also really sorry about the whole falling-off-the-face-of-the-earth thing...why don't we chalk it up to multiple counts of computer failure, family emergencies, college graduating, job hunting, job finding and a massive case of writes block shall we? please forgive me? I come bearing a shiny new chapter for you! I'll even keep this author's note nice and short...all I wanted to say was an infinite number of apologies for the delay, and I will do my best to NOT keep to this schedule from here on out.

Feel free to leave a review, and let me know if this chapter was worth the wait...I probably don't deserve any reviews for holding you in suspense, but I do truly appreciate any honest feedback! see, look! I'm done groveling now! enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with Harry Potter, and J.K. Rowling's books (the stuff in bold), all I own is the memory of sipping butterbeer in Hogsmeade down in Florida.

Early the next morning Arthur found himself wide awake, pondering the revelations of the previous day. He couldn't believe how much had been hidden about Harry's early years; especially considering how Albus had repeatedly assured many of the house's occupants how close an eye he was keeping on the boy. It broke his heart to think about all those struggles, but he was glad that now they could at least help Harry get out of the situation once and for all.

Realizing that he wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon, and knowing that others would begin stirring in a little while, Arthur decided to simply get up and ready for the day ahead. Having received the letter from Albus about Ron's injuries at the end of his first year and hearing the tales his sons had recounted to an excited Ginny, he knew that the rest of the book probably wasn't going to be any less stressful. While he and the rest of the adults could grasp the threat You-Know-Who posed, and many of them had an idea of what the young students had faced, hearing about it from Harry's point of view would most likely reveal situations similar to those that had come up already—things no one would have ever contemplated as a possibility.

He managed to make it out of the bedroom without rousing Molly and carefully navigated the creaking staircases so as not to disturb the rest of the house while heading for the kitchen. He began getting things out to make himself a cup of tea; he noticed that Kreacher (who usually slept under the boiler in the back of the kitchen) wasn't anywhere to be found—again. Sighing to himself, he returned to the task at hand.

When he finally sat down at the table with his steaming mug, he noticed yesterday's Daily Prophet piled in one corner. With all the new guests and commotion yesterday, he hadn't gotten a chance to really look past the main headlines, so the Weasley patriarch took the opportunity now to catch himself up on the present times, rather than events from four years ago. Soon enough, Remus and Sirius—neither of which had slept any better than they had the previous night—made their way into the basement. Molly also appeared, after waking to find Arthur already gone from their room. She promptly began gathering up everything to make enough breakfast for all twelve people staying there at the moment.

It wasn't until the teenagers started trickling in, however, that the calm silence of the morning was broken by chatter. By the time Molly was placing large platters of eggs, bacon, and sausages on the table, everyone had made it downstairs, and the students had begun comparing what they knew of the school year to what they might learn from the book. Ron and Hermione, knowing pretty much all of what was going to happen next, had the secretive grins from yesterday on their faces, and weren't letting anything slip, despite the twins' leading questions, while Neville was being gently probed by a curious Bill, Ginny, and Luna (the only three people besides the adults to not have been at Hogwarts at the time).

Arthur finally put the paper down and glanced around when his wife nudged him with a plate, indicating that if he didn't serve himself now, he wasn't going to be getting any. Realizing that he was actually quite hungry, Arthur began busying himself with the platters, and when he next looked around, both Minerva and Severus had arrived and were being served tea by Molly. At this point, many of the children were getting antsy, and wanted to begin reading as soon as possible, but Molly insisted that they would not begin until everyone had eaten, and the kitchen put back in order.

Eventually, everyone had eaten to their satisfaction, and the dishes had been cleaned sufficiently despite the increasingly persistent grumbling from the students. The whole group made their way through the house and back to the library once more. And finally, while everyone was settling down, Minerva brought out the object on everyone's thoughts and placed it on one of the tables.

"So, who wants to begin the next chapter?" She asked as she settled into one of the nearby armchairs. Hermione promptly opened her mouth (no doubt to volunteer again), but an elbow accompanied by a whisper from Ron kept her from actually saying anything. Bill also looked like he wanted to read again, but his father beat him to the punch.

"I think I would like to give it ago, if no one minds." Not hearing any disagreements, he looked towards Minerva, who passed the book over with a nod.

Arthur quickly found the right page and began, "Chapter 5: Diagon Alley."

"Oh goody! We finally get to see Harry's introduction to the magical world!" Ginny exclaimed, and everybody else perked up just a little more, hoping that things were finally starting to look up.

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.

"Of course, Harry would think of that first." Hermione rolled her eyes. She couldn't blame him, however, considering it had also taken her a few days to wrap her head around everything Professor McGonagall had explained.

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.

Taking a break for the night must have helped somewhat, Arthur thought absently when many people grimaced but refrained from actually commenting at the mention of the dreaded cupboard.

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.

"We all know it's not Petunia knocking, so what is making that tapping sound?" Fred asked, scratching his head confusedly. When no answer was forthcoming from anyone, George sighed extravagantly.

"Obviously, dear brother, it's some poor creature trying to escape the confines of Hagrid's jacket."

Ginny shivered in distaste. "You realize Harry is sleeping under the jacket you are talking about, right George?" Her brother simply shrugged in indifference, clearly unconcerned for the young boy's plight.

"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.

"Those post owls sure are determined," Remus chuckled lightly. "If Hagrid's not at home to retrieve his paper, they will follow him all the way out to an obscure hut on a rock in the middle of the ocean."

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

"Harry's really excited about that newspaper, isn't he?" Ron snickered while getting a shove from Hermione, who thought it was much too early to start up the shenanigans.

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.

"Or they're just determined to get their money one way or another," Sirius snorted, the prospect of leaving the Dursleys behind for this chapter bringing him slightly out of the funk he had fallen into last night.

"Don't do that."

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

Ginny's eyebrow rose skeptically. "If the owl is smart enough to know where Hagrid keeps his money, he should also be smart enough to know not to bite the hand that pays him."

"He might simply be looking for those dormice," Neville pointed out quietly, while Luna nodded along. He winced slightly when Ginny shivered and shot him a glare. Apparently, she was still a squeamish about Harry possibly sleeping with live animals.

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

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

Severus snorted, though it was so quiet only Minerva seemed to hear him. When she turned questioningly, however, all he did was roll his eyes and gesture towards Remus, who was rubbing his forehead and muttering.

"How is he going to know what you're talking about Hagrid? You never even explained Owl Post to him last night when he saw you send Albus a letter…" Clearly, the question of the groundskeeper's capability in introducing Harry to magic was still up in the air for a good number of the adults.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags...

"Don't forget the mice, owls, probably a lizard or two…" Fred whispered, just loud enough to carry over to Ginny, who was squirming around on the couch as if she were the one with a coat full of creepy crawlers.

"Guys, cut it out," Bill leaned over to his brothers reproachfully. "It's too early to be aggravating people, and as we're going to be stuck in this room all day, please don't make it even more unbearable." He spoke low enough so that their parents wouldn't overhear and start yelling, but the twins got the point and quieted, though they pouted playfully at their eldest brother all the same.

Finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"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.

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.

"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."

Arthur was interrupted from his reading by a "Hmmph!" from Molly. She clearly hadn't been expecting anyone to hear her, because she blinked when Arthur turned to her on the couch.

"I just can't believe that poor boy had to spend so many years convinced he was completely dependent on such horrible people." She said defensively. Her husband nodded, patting her consolingly on the shoulder in understanding and turned back to the book, while Sirius' frown began to reappear.

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

"But if their house was destroyed –"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy!"

"Because clearly, Potter is clever enough to discern from your behavior where Muggles and wizards parallel or differ from each other." Severus was rolling his eyes again, though nobody was sure whether he was insulting Harry, Hagrid, or both at the same time. As such, they continued on without responding, though it did little to help with the man's sour disposition.

"Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold - an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Lovely way to start the day; cold sausage and birthday cake." Bill couldn't seem to decide whether to look amused or appalled at what Hagrid considered 'breakfast'.

"Wizards have banks?"

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

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah - so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that."

Nobody seemed to have much patience for the half-giant this morning, because now Sirius was pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke testily.

"Does he think bank robbery is really the first thing on an eleven-year-old's mind when they're told goblins run the only place wizards keep their money?"

"I'm sure Hagrid is simply trying to make conversation with the boy, Sirius. He's not overly fussed about prudence, and tends to just say the first thing to come to his mind. There's no harm in it." Minerva looked around the whole library as she spoke. Yes, she had her hesitations about Albus' decision in this matter, but she knew the groundskeeper had his heart in the right place, and she also knew Harry had shown up to school whole, healthy and with all the proper materials, so there was no need to worry.

"Unless we should be worrying about why bank robbery is the first thing Hagrid thinks about when Gringotts is mentioned." George whispered to his smirking twin under cover of his father resuming his reading.

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

"And that trust has never proven to be a mistake."Minerva interceded pointedly, in emphasis of her previous point. "I think it would be wise for all of us to simply enjoy their outing, rather than trying to analyze what we see as mistakes." As no one seemed to disagree with her, Minerva nodded to herself in satisfaction, and made a mental note to provide more coffee next morning so hopefully people were not as irritable.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

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

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"He must have used Thestrals," Luna said, speaking for the first time since they had begun reading that day. Hermione's eyebrows went up at this.

"What sort of animal is large enough to carry Hagrid?" Luna turned to her and blinked.

"Thestrals. They're actually the size of a horse, but since they can fly, they were probably hitched to a carriage and were pulling him-" Hermione's snort of disbelief wasn't loud, but was just unexpected enough to stop the fourth year in her explanation.

"Flying horses pulling Hagrid through the sky? What, are they related to Father Christmas' flying reindeer? And Hagrid just happened to have enough of these creatures hanging around to fly himself to wherever Harry was?" At this point, she dissolved into giggles from her mental picture of Hagrid in a bright red suit and hat flying through the air in a Cinderella-esque pumpkin carriage being pulled by ropes attached to nothing. It was clear to everyone in the room that Hermione didn't believe one word of Luna's speculation. Her giggles subsided, however, when she realized no one else found this as amusing as her.

"As a matter of fact, Ms Granger, Ms Lovegood is correct." Minerva spoke, nodding her head towards the Ravenclaw. "Albus keeps a few carriages on hand should he need to leave suddenly, and Hagrid cares for the entire herd, so he would know how to find them if he ever needed." Hermione's face bloomed red as her eyes widened in embarrassment.

"But if Harry didn't see them, where…"

"They are especially clever and independent creatures; Hagrid probably sent them back to Hogwarts after reaching the hut, especially if there was a storm. I doubt he would leave any animal in his care out on a rock during such horrible weather." The Transfiguration professor continued kindly, deciding now was not the time to try and explain all of the creature's complexities, especially the invisible part. "Besides," she finished, "If I'm not mistaken, you were present for the Beauxbatons entrance last year before the tournament, and if they were able to find flying horses, why shouldn't Hagrid be able to as well?" Seeing that she had once again made her point, she settled back in her seat and looked expectantly at Arthur.

As his father began again, Ron leaned over to his friend. "Are you ok, Hermione? You look like you've just failed an exam, or something." Instead of responding to the irritating redhead that couldn't even bother to hide his smirk, Hermione leaned over and quietly apologized to Luna, who brushed off the Gryffindor's embarrassment with a vacant smile.

"Don't worry Hermione, wrackspurts have funny effects on everyone, and this house has its fair share of nests." Not having any sort of response to this, Hermione nodded bemusedly as she sat back and tried to refocus on what Arthur was saying,

"Flew?"

"Yeah - but we'll go back in this."

"Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat,

"So how are the Dursleys going to get off the rock?" Luna spoke up again, clearly not affected in the least by Hermione's disdain the last time she had said something. Neville turned to her in astonishment, amazed that he hadn't even thought about that, and now just as curious as the Revenclaw about the answer. After a few seconds—when it was clear no one had a reasonable response—Arthur cleared his throat.

"Well…maybe it explains it later on…" and with that he picked up the chapter where he had left off.

Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"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?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow in confusion and turned to the person she thought would have the best answer to her question.

"Professor McGonagall?" When the transfiguration professor had turned to her, she continued, "If Hagrid isn't supposed to be doing magic, and Harry has the trace on him, shouldn't the Ministry have detected something like that?" To her surprise, it was Arthur who answered.

"Well, Hermione, while you're correct that technically this is not really within the law, Hagrid is still over the age of majority, and while his wand was broken and confiscated—" He broke off to glance at the couch across the room, where coughing (which sounded suspiciously like laughter) was coming from, but Sirius quieted when he noticed the eyes on him. "Yes, well, while Hagrid is recorded as not being able to perform magic, that doesn't stop him from having the ability, and the Ministry's trace can't differentiate unique magical signatures, apart from 'underage' and 'adult'."

"Also," Now Minerva did speak, adding to Arthur's explanation, "The Ministry keeps itself fairly separate from Hogwarts business, and if Albus mentioned to them that he had sent someone to talk to Mr. Potter, they wouldn't ask too many questions." At least, back then, she added silently to herself. She could tell that was also the thought of many adults who had been following the rift between Albus and Cornelius increase all summer.

Hermione didn't miss the increased tension in the room from all the Order members, and while she thought she knew what they were thinking about, she decided not to pursue the thought just now and simply said. "Oh, that makes sense, thank you Mr. Weasley, Professor."

"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.

"Well, so much for eleven year olds not thinking about bank robbery." Remus chuckled lightly, attempting to bring the focus of the room back to Harry's trip and away from the politics of the present. He thought it might have worked, too, judging from the small groan Sirius released.

"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. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, 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.

"Somehow, that doesn't seem to have worked quite the way Hagrid wanted, I think." Remus was chuckling again; he couldn't help but think how James would have acted the same way to this information, though he probably would have been asking more…helpful…questions of the half-giant, as well.

Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Don't worry, Harry; that's more self-control than SOME of us have." Ginny said, elbowing Ron for emphasis, and making Neville and Hermione laugh and nod, to their year mate's chagrin.

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

"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, 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?"

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

"That's a highly simplified explanation, really…There are so many more things that the Ministry has a hand in…" Arthur had interrupted himself in order to expand on Hagrid's point, though a well-placed cough from Molly, paired with a significant glance, had him returning to the book itself. He felt that as the only Ministry representative in the group, he had to at least attempt to keep their reputation somewhat respectable, especially as he knew many in the Ministry did not actually believe Fudge wholeheartedly.

"Why?"

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

"Because Dursley definitely seems like a guy who would ask any of us for a magical favor." Bill said derisively, a scowl appearing.

Severus was loath to admit it—even in his own mind—but he had to agree with the cynical Weasley boy; Hagrid's opinion on the matter seemed blissfully and optimistically naïve, especially from someone who had seen the ugly side of human nature just this past year.

"Nah, we're best left alone."

However much they disagreed with Hagrid's previous, simplified explanation, no one disagreed on this point. Well, except Arthur, of course, who was happy to deal with Muggles on a regular basis.

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.

Hermione suddenly wondered how long it took for Harry's opinion of staring to go from being understandable to completely unsufferable. She had a feeling it wouldn't even take the whole chapter, and sympathized with her friend for the introduction he would probably get in Diagon Alley.

Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

Remus winced at this, wishing that Hagrid had tried to be a little more subtle, while Sirius was once again pinching his nose as if he could physically ward off a headache that way. Even Minerva was showing signs of exasperation; her lips had thinned in that indicative way that she had when she'd caught a student misbehaving.

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up,

Ron sniggered quietly, and when Hermione turned, he whispered, "You know how tiny Harry was back then, he had trouble simply trying to keep up with us in a crowded corridor at school." He saw Hermione's gaze go unfocused while a smile slowly appeared, and he knew she was picturing the same ridiculous image he was of Hagrid walking with a Harry who needed three steps for every one of the half-giants'.

"did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid.

"Who exactly is 'they'?" Fred asked in what was supposed to be an innocent voice. Instead of an answer, all he got was a stern look from his mother.

"Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

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

Molly rolled her eyes.

"Of course Hagrid would want something like that as a pet." Never having known the half-giant as a student or groundskeeper, she was the least familiar with the man's idea of 'cute'.

"It is strange, though…" Luna had begun a thought, but trailed off, staring out the window. When it was clear that the girl was long gone from the present company, most just shrugged, and Hermione sent a covert look of disbelief at the absentminded student. Ginny, however, thought she knew what the Ravenclaw had been going to say.

While neither fourteen year old had spent much time together during school, they had both somehow ended up sitting in the stands next to Hagrid during the first challenge last year. To their astonishment, and everyone else in the crowd around them, when Krum's dragon had trampled her eggs, Hagrid had burst into tears, mumbled something about 'Norbert' and Charlie, then went running off wailing. Even before that, she had noticed Hagrid acting more wistful than wishful at the eggs and dragons everywhere—not necessarily how one would picture someone who wanted a pet. Shaking her head to bring herself back to the present, she put Hagrid's weird emotional response to dragons out of her mind and focused back on her father, who had started to read again.

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.

Ron sniggered at the gobsmacked looks on some people's faces upon learning that Hagrid could knit. He leaned over to Hermione, who had a shrewd look on her face that he didn't even want to consider the reasons for, and said, "Harry told me once about that. Apparently he looks for yellow every time we visit Hagrid, but has yet to figure out if it's finished and what it's for."

Instead of the laughs he was aiming for, Hermione simply mumbled "…that's nice, Ron…" and continued to stare off into space, much like Luna had done not five minutes ago. Unbeknownst to the redhead, Hermione hadn't actually heard a word he said. Rather, she was hatching a plan to get Hagrid to help her with her new house-elf freeing strategy she wanted to launch in September.

A little frightened now of the gleeful, scheming glow that had appeared in his best friend's eyes, Ron scooted himself towards the other end of their couch and turned back to the group as a whole, who hadn't noticed anything.

"Still got yer letter, Harry?" he asked as he counted stitches. Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before and read:

"Is it really safe to be reading a letter about magical schools on a public train?" Hermione pulled herself out of her musings just in time to figure out what was going on. Remus smiled at the girl's concern.

"Well, Hermione, in this case, I don't think there's anything to be worried about. If there's one thing I've noticed about Muggles in general, it is that children and their 'imagination' get a lot more flexibility than a grown adult wearing mismatching clothes would. Barring a few exceptions, of course." The werewolf suddenly frowned, thinking about the Dursleys, but everyone could see his point, so Arthur continued reading in order to avoid dwelling on Harry's relatives more than necessary.

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

"Has anybody ever bothered to wear those?" Sirius asked, knowing that many of the students in his day had barely taken them out of their trunks for anything other than the Welcoming Feast. Minerva simply sighed, not wanting to argue with the man when she knew he was right.

"It is tradition, Mr. Black, and Albus is very intent on keeping as many of them around as possible. If you have any suggestions about it, I would speak to him directly." While the words were rather formal and polite, everyone heard the unspoken message; this was one of those inexplicable things Albus did that nobody could talk him out of.

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

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

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

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emetic Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

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

Bill frowned, suddenly wondering how Percy and Ron had managed to get away with bringing a rat, of all things, as a pet for so many years. He suddenly realized that he hadn't seen Scabbers once since everyone had moved to Grimmauld Place, and no one had mentioned him at all either. Curious now, he decided at the next break that he would ask Ron about it, hoping that if the scrawny thing had died it wasn't too much of a sensitive topic with his younger brother.

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

Arthur paused momentarily to clear his throat. Surprisingly, they had gotten through the entire list without an interruption, but he assumed that was because the first year supply list hadn't changed much in many years.

The brief pause, however, gave the room enough silence for many to hear Severus mutter something under his breath, and when they looked over at him, he was scowling fiercely at Minerva, who seemed to be oblivious to the scrutiny, wearing a smug smile and slight blush. The only people who understood what was going on, however, were the five oldest Gryffindor students, who had trouble stifling their laughter as they exchanged looks.

As the laughter erupted, a baffled Sirius looked at the equally bemused Remus and, in a move long ago perfected by the friends, they shrugged in tandem and smiled at how disgruntled Severus had become from a simple, longstanding Hogwarts rule. They may not have been in on the joke, but they could appreciate how easily it had gotten the potions master's hackles up—something they hadn't seen since they were in school together.

For Severus, the mocking laughter from the Gryffindor students was the tipping point. He could deal with—and probably secretly enjoyed—the rivalry between Minerva and himself, but the students' laughter at his expense was not acceptable. And so, when he turned to Arthur with an eyebrow up expectantly, his expression held more venom than the poor man deserved (though considering three of the five brats were Weasleys, Severus was less inclined to see him as blameless).

Arthur, despite his confusion at the Slytherin's anger, nodded amiably and continued over the children's laughter, which caught their attention enough to settle down somewhat.

"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.

No one was really surprised by this, though Neville mumbled slightly to himself.

"Don't worry, Harry, I've never been to London outside Diagon Alley either."

Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I suppose if you're used to Floo and apparating, that would seem somewhat slower." Remus chuckled, looking at the strange look Hermione was sending the book.

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

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people.

"Unless you count Harry and Hagrid," George sniggered to his brother, who smirked.

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 that the Dursleys had cooked up?

"I'm surprised he hasn't thought of that before now, in all honesty," Sirius muttered grumpily. He had had the same thought about numerous lucky chances throughout his life, and even now, in the middle of the night, he would sometimes wonder if he were simply hallucinating, and was actually still rotting away in Azkaban. These dark thoughts coupled with his lack of sleep the last few nights almost physically manifested a dark cloud above the animagus' head. We haven't even finished a single chapter today, the man thought desperately, wondering how they were going to get through seven whole books if every chapter took this much energy.

Remus, noticing the nose-dive Sirius' mood was taking—again—did the only thing he thought his friend would notice in his musings; he simply patted him on the shoulder in a show of silent support. While it might not have looked like it helped to anybody else, the fact that Remus could feel Sirius' shoulder relax even infinitesimally put a smile on his face, and he hoped hearing happier times for Harry would help even more…if they ever got there.

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.

Hearing this gave a few people smiles; having known him for years, most knew that Harry's instincts about situations were spot on. Hermione nodded a little, leaning over to Ron with a happy little smile.

"He's always had a soft spot for Hagrid, hasn't he?" The boy just nodded in agreement, wondering if he was imagining the misty look Hermione's eyes had taken on (and hoping he wouldn't have to deal with her crying. He hated crying girls).

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

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry 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.

"For a skeptical eleven-year old, Harry sure is observant, isn't he?" Ginny was shaking her head in bemusement. She couldn't understand how a boy that half the time couldn't finish his homework without Hermione could at the same time pick up on the effects of some of the world's subtlest charms.

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.

"How long has Tom been running that place anyway?" Bill asked, scratching his head.

"He's had the Leaky Cauldron for quite a while now," Arthur answered his son, smiling nostalgically. "He was there when I started going to Hogwarts. Hagrid wasn't even Gamekeeper back then."

"It's actually quite amazing how little has changed, considering we went through a war and all," Hermione noted to herself, not really surprised at the fact that this was one more area the Wizarding World showed a desire to hang on to older customs and habits.

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, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid,

Minerva let out a little sigh of relief; it seemed that Hagrid was taking his responsibility to escort Harry seriously.

Clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

Well, almost… She let out another small sigh, this one closer to dismay than relief. She still stood by her opinion that the Gamekeeper had the best intentions—and probably assumed Harry would enjoy a bit of positive attention—but apparently Albus had neglected to mention that subtlety was probably a better option.

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

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"The clientele hasn't changed much either," Sirius muttered to Remus. Having grown up in a family known for their darker tendencies, the Black heir had always thought the gossipy regulars of the Cauldron to be overly nosy on more than one occasion.

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

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

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

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out.

"Does he do that often?" Neville spoke up, looking like he was trying to remember something, but failing miserably at it.

"Do what, Neville?" Ron looked at him askance, as if he couldn't decide to laugh or be worried about the pained concentration on his year mate's face.

"Picking up on the little things no one should be noticing when there's so much other stuff going on." The Gryffindor gestured vaguely to emphasize his point, and Hermione grinned, nodding her head.

"Yes, Neville, he does. It's quite funny sometimes, when you compare how Harry remembers things to how someone else does. I think it goes back to how he prioritizes things in his head…" Hermione added this last part under her breath while Ron began regaling Neville with a prime example of what she meant, but she had tuned them out in favor of trying to work out how Harry's brain worked.

They were all pulled out of their conversations, however, when Severus interjected irritably.

"Can we just get a move on with this blasted chapter?"

As he thought it was too early in the morning to suffer the professor's ire, Arthur obliged.

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.

"Honestly, does anyone know the meaning of self-restraint?" Molly huffed out incredulously. She could understand children not knowing or caring about manners, but to hear about grown men and women acting like that was almost unbelievable. "Don't they realize they could have scared the poor boy out of his mind?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The more Arthur read, the more people started agreeing with the Weasley mother; people's expressions were ranging from disbelief to resignation to clear disgust at the lack of maturity in the Leaky Cauldron at the moment.

Severus had a feeling that if this passage went on for much longer, he was going to give in to the urge and strangle something in order to keep his clenched fists from cramping. He had thought the attention Potter garnered from students and professors at school was too indulgent, but that paled in comparison to this display. If Hogwarts had been like this, nobody would have been able to get anything done.

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,

Hermione suddenly gasped softly, finally starting to put pieces of the timeline together from that year. She had remembered Harry talking about Quirrell's inability to touch him due to Voldemort's influence, but they had never been able to make sense of the timing, since Harry's recollections of the conversation during their fight was hazy in a few areas.

"c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

"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.

Ron grunted almost viciously. Probably more like trying to ignore the irony, he thought, still surprised after four years how the headmaster always managed to miss the murderous intent in his new hires until Harry was fairly attacked outright.

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

Fred turned to his twin with a contemplative expression on his face.

"Who do you think turned out to be a better professor; the one hiding You-Know-Who in his turban and too terrified of the subject to speak, or the one masquerading as an ex-auror on You-Know-Who's orders while being so enamored with the subject he performed the actual spells on us rather than teaching us to defend against them?"

Realizing his brother was actually serious about his question, George tried to come up with an answer. Unfortunately, neither he nor any of the other students could decide, and Arthur eventually broke the awkward silence of their thinking with a cough.

"Well, moving on…"

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all.

"Hagrid actually let people mob Harry for over ten minutes?" Hermione was surprised; Harry might have been good at hiding most of his emotions, but his discomfort in crowds was usually quite obvious, and Hagrid was also usually much more sensitive to things like that. A few other people seemed to be feeling the same way, but Remus pointed something out that no one had thought of yet.

"I think, Hermione, Hagrid might have become a little caught up in the excitement of Harry returning to the magical world."

"I suppose…" Hermione sighed, though she still had a troubled expression on her face.

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.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

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

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since."

"Well, I always said action was a much better teacher than words," Sirius said. "Just think, Remus, without James and I around, you might have turned into the same kind of stuffy bookworm—afraid of your own shadow." He chuckled at the affronted look on his friend's face.

"For your information, Sirius, I would have been fine in the experience department without your meddling. In fact, I probably would have had at least half the number of detentions I did simply because I wasn't involved in your ridiculous ideas about 'action'." He sniffed snootily, but everyone could see the smirk the werewolf couldn't quite remove. "Besides, you only said that so often because you thought it was a good enough excuse to skip out on your homework."

Not being able to deny this with a straight face, Sirius simply shook his head while chuckling some more, not noticing the exchange of glances between Remus and Minerva; both of whom were glad to see his mood continuing to improve.

"Scared of the students, scared of his own subject. Now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across," he muttered.

"Does Hagrid really still need to use the trash can as a reference to get in?" Ginny wrinkled her nose in confusion. The number of times their family had to visit Diagon Alley in a single year was ample time to memorize exactly which brick opened the arch, in her opinion.

Remus laughed. "Most people don't ever bother with remembering, Ginny, since the bin hasn't been moved in decades." Unseen by the werewolf, the twins' eyes had suddenly brightened. Sharing a glance, Fred whispered to his brother.

"Wouldn't it be a shame if it were to somehow move overnight…" They broke apart quickly, before anyone (namely Hermione) could get suspicious.

"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 - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

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

He grinned at Harry's amazement.

Everyone in the room was grinning as well. Ron leaned over to Neville and Hermione, nodding toward the book.

"You think that's the same expression he had on when we first saw Hogwarts?" Laughing, they nodded in agreement.

"And when we first got to the Great Hall," Neville added.

"Don't forget when the Welcoming Feast appeared!" Hermione was almost bursting with giggles at this point. They had all forgotten how often eleven-year-old Harry had been rendered speechless the first few days at Hogwarts.

While no one else could quite tell what the three fifth-years were saying through the laughter, they were nonetheless enjoying the sight of the light-hearted banter. Even Arthur had paused in his reading to enjoy the rare levity in the room.

They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

Hermione had begun calming her laughter as Arthur once again began reading, and hearing this, she suddenly thought of something.

"Doesn't all that commotion get tiresome after a while?" She asked thoughtfully. She enjoyed using the Leaky Cauldron's entrance as much as the next Muggleborn, but it did seem like a lot of fanfare when you considered how many people opened and closed the gate on a daily basis.

"Of course not!" The twins were sending her appalled looks while Ginny, Luna, Ron and Neville all appeared speechless. Even Bill seemed slightly scandalized by the suggestion that people would get tired of the flashy entrance ritual.

Seeing that she was out numbered, she simply shrugged in surrender.

"I guess not…"

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

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

"Not anymore…" Ron said to himself, thinking about Harry's broom. "Do you think they're working on a new model again? They came out with three in three years, and then stopped after the Firebolt." Sirius laughed.

"Sorry, Ron, I don't think so. That usually happens leading up to the Cup, but then things go back to normal." He laughed again when the redhead deflated slightly, but more quiet grumblings from Severus pulled everyone's focus.

Still feeling it was too early to get into any arguments, Arthur quickly picked back up where he had left off.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops.

"Ostentatious," Severus harrumphed under his breath, though the frown Bill sent his way meant he wasn't as quiet as he thought.

"They're actually not that bad when you get to know them," he said. Yes, they were a little difficult to get along with, but that was just the way the goblin culture was. He was a little disgruntled to see that no one else was willing to agree with him, though. Most people were shifting uneasily or avoiding his glance.

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

"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.

Ginny shook her head. "Somehow, I don't think it's the poem that deters lawbreakers." Seeing as Bill still looked a little bent out of shape from Professor Snape's earlier comment, she refrained from finishing the thought; it's more the reputation of those that run the place.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

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

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose.

A couple of people winced at this.

"Probably would have been a good idea to sort that out before you went up to one of the counters, Hagrid." Arthur muttered under his breath. He knew how small those blasted safe keys were, and considering Hagrid's coat was big enough to house multiple live animals, he didn't want to think about how easy it would be to get lost—or what would happen if he couldn't find it.

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

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

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

Sirius snorted. "I know they like their protocol and all, but for something like that, it just makes them sound ridiculous." Seeing Bill's scowl still in place, Remus elbowed his friend.

"You're only saying that because you've never had any regard for the institution and its tradition. It probably makes running such a large operation much easier." When it looked like the Black heir would start arguing, Remus sent him a loaded glance, and gestured subtly at the oldest Weasley child.

Luckily, Sirius seemed to pick up on the message, and gave up his argument with little fanfare.

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

Hermione was the first to react to this little speech, though certainly not the only one. She slapped her forehead—perhaps a little too viciously, as the sound echoed throughout the room—and groaned.

"Hagrid, I know you only just met him and probably don't know any better, but really that was the worst thing to say in front of Harry!"

No one seemed to hear anything past the half-giant's name, however, as many were making exasperated noises of their own. Minerva was pinching her nose, while Severus had—uncharacteristically emotive—gone straight to simply putting his head in his hands. Meanwhile Arthur had lost any opportunity to grouse about Hagrid's blunder; Molly had started almost immediately into a tirade—directly into her dear husband's ear. "How does he think it's okay to say something like that in front of an eleven-year-old boy? He works around children for a living! He should know better…" All the poor man could do was nod along.

Remus and Sirius seemed to be stuck between laughter and exasperation. Unbeknownst to either man, they were taking the same philosophy for this whole debacle: clearly there was nothing they could do to stop whatever was going to happen, so they might as well enjoy the ride. The Weasley children and Neville were too busy laughing at Hermione's outburst to really bother worrying about Hagrid's tact: they knew Harry would have gotten all caught up in the events no matter what the half-giant had said.

Luna, as had become typical for her in the past day, was staring off into space, this time towards the window while wearing a slight smile.

Since there was little actual conversation going on, though, the tumult settled down fairly quickly and Arthur was able to start his reading again.

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

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

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously.

"Because that clearly is how you stop children from being curious," Bill said sarcastically, slowly coming out of his bad mood, but still not as comfortable as he had been in previous chapters.

"Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n 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. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor.

Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off. At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

"Ahh, magic! Isn't it wonderful, Harry?" George laughed at his twin's dreamy sigh.

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

"What, really?" Neville jumped in. While his family's vault wasn't as far down as some of the other Purebloods, he had seen quite a bit of the cavernous bank. However, never once had he caught a hint about dragons, let alone flames in any of the passages.

Even Bill was shocked out of his bad mood. While he may have worked for the bank—and been on better terms with the Goblins than other wizards—he hadn't even seen evidence of dragons, aside from the rumors.

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.

Ginny's eyebrows had been moving steadily upward, and she couldn't help but interrupt her father here.

"How far down is Harry's vault? I've never even seen half of what he's talking about!" To her annoyance, Bill simply laughed at his sister.

"That's because our vault is in a completely different section, Ginny, in the opposite direction from where Harry and Hagrid are right now." Seeing that his baby sister was not satisfied with his answer, he elaborated, though kept in mind that he couldn't give away too much information.

"But, to answer your other question, Harry—being in the Potter line—has one of the vaults on the lower levels, where a lot of the old families keep their assets."

It looked like Ginny was going to keep interrogating her brother, but Hermione interrupted, noticing Ron shifting around uncomfortably next to her.

"Um, Ginny, I know the history and organization of Gringotts is fascinating—" She elbowed Neville, who had let out a little skeptical snort, "—but I think that's better left for a break between chapters."

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

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid.

Eyebrows went up around the room at this.

"Well, he's not wrong, per se," Remus said amusedly, "but still missing an important part of the explanation."

"An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Ron shook his head with a small smile. "Hagrid will willingly take in gigantic, deadly monsters without blinking, but a cart ride makes him nervous? Tha—ow! What was that for?!" He was brought out of his disbelief by a slap to the head, courtesy of Hermione.

"Be nice, Ron. Hagrid simply gets motion sickness, it's actually quite common in the Muggle world. I'm surprised more people don't suffer from it, with the way some of your magical vehicles are run." She shuddered, thinking back to how Harry had described his ride on the Knight Bus.

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

Sirius frowned, turning to Remus.

"Just coins? I thought James said his family kept a lot of their heirlooms in their vault?" Remus' forehead scrunched up in thought, and after a few seconds, answered his friend.

"Maybe Harry just hasn't noticed anything else, Sirius. The book does seem to imply that he was taken off-guard." Seeing that the Black heir wasn't convinced, both men turned to the person who knew the most about the bank's workings.

While they had been talking, they had failed to notice the awkward and tense mood that had settled around almost everyone else who had been listening. Ron in particular was looking very uncomfortable—he had always had the hardest time when Harry's wealth was discussed—and his uneasiness left the rest of the students and his family feeling awkward as well.

Taking a quick glance at his youngest brother (who was shifting around in his seat), Bill sighed and answered the ex-Gryffindors' question.

"I've never actually been in Harry's vault, so I can't be sure, but there are a two or three different designs used by the really old families…It could be that—" Here he was unexpectedly cut off by his mother.

"Oh! I had completely forgotten!" Molly's eyes had gone wide as she clearly remembered something. Unfortunately, no one else knew what she was talking about, and she was faced with a lot of blank stares. "Last year, what with the Quidditch Cup and everything, the children didn't have a chance to go school shopping, so I figured it would be easier if I bought Harry's things for him while I was in Diagon Alley for everyone else. One of my first stops was Gringotts. I hadn't understood at the time, but while the main room is only his money, there were a couple of doors along the walls. Those must be where the family heirlooms are kept, Sirius."

She nodded decisively, glad to have helped solve one of the many mysteries this book had given them. Rather than thanking her, or seeming even remotely pleased with this answer, Sirius' frown just got deeper.

"If Harry didn't know you were going to be getting his things, how did you get the key to his vault? Didn't you ask him for it beforehand?" Molly opened her mouth to answer immediately, but then seemed to realize something and hesitated, blinking.

"I…well, I, uh, I simply asked Albus, of course." Remus, Severus, Bill and Arthur all looked surprised, and a little unnerved by this. The werewolf in particular was wondering how Sirius had caught on to the problem when no one else had, and was slightly ashamed that the incongruity had never been noticed by himself.

Ron and the other teens had forgotten about their unease in the face of the serious turn the conversation had just taken. Sirius simply looked like his suspicions had been confirmed, and was nodding grimly. Even Minerva had a frown on her face at this pronouncement, and turned to the Weasley matriarch with her 'don't try and wriggle out of this' face she usually saved for the twins.

"Do you mean to tell me that Albus has the ONLY means to access Harry's vault, and anyone who would like to gain entry has to go through him first?" At the woman's tentative nod, she continued, though it sounded more like she was talking to herself at this point. "I understand keeping it while the boy was with his relatives, but after he started school…wouldn't you think…" She trailed off, and in the ensuing silence, Severus spoke up, strangely somber, given the present company.

"Be that as it may, there is nothing we can do about it at the moment, and Albus is not here for us to question, so why don't we continue and see if Hagrid gives any more information about the situation." Seeing the nods of reluctant agreement, Arthur took a deep breath and plunged onwards.

"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?

Despite the recent concerns, once again Harry's thoughts about the Dursleys were able to distract everyone.

"How much could hand-me-downs and a closet cost?" Ginny scowled. She and her brothers knew how much knut-pinching their family did to keep things going, and they still managed to give Harry a decent place to stay over the summer. Most of the Weasleys were having similar thoughts, coupled with the same expression as their sister, as well.

Ron, however, was feeling slightly ashamed and uncomfortable—again. He was starting to hate this book simply because it was making him think about his feelings (something he tried to avoid most of the time). He knew that Harry didn't really care about his money, and that the amount of wealth didn't change the way he treated people; but emotionally, the redhead was still worried after all these years that Harry would wake up one day and decide Malfoy's gang was much better company, simply because they had the same kind of bank vault.

Hermione may not have been a very good divination student, but she had a shrewd idea where Ron's head was at, and simply patted him on the shoulder in a show of solidarity and comfort. Still lost in his thoughts, her friend just sent her a vague smile, but stopped shifting around, luckily. Some people were starting to take notice, and she didn't think Ron would react very well to awkward questions.

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.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough."

Arthur nodded to himself here, mumbling, "Much easier than all that muggle money. Never know when to use the paper pieces or the coins…all the same color, all with the same face on it…"

Meanwhile, Hermione was mumbling as well, "Yes, much easier than the simple system of the Muggles… it's all by tens, how hard… to count…. where did they even… twenty-nine?! …exchange rates… completely ridiculous…"

"Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms,

The twins sniggered, and George spoke up.

"Either Hagrid is completely misinformed about the price of school supplies, or Harry's doing something wrong, because he goes and gets money almost every summer!"

"Well, it doesn't help that every year we need a new set of Defense books because each professor has a different curriculum," Ginny rolled her eyes, but to her surprise Minerva and Severus nodded in agreement.

"Quite right, Ms Weasley," Minerva said, smirking slightly when the twins stuck their tongues out at the girl. "We try to keep things as reasonable as possible, but with all the difficulty Albus has finding staff members recently, it has gotten a bit harder. Though I must say, it had never been as bad as your first year." She—and anyone else who remembered the ridiculous book list Lockhart had required—shuddered.

Not wanting to dwell on how he had had to buy five set of those books, Arthur quickly returned to where he had been interrupted.

"we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

"As affable as ever, Griphook," Bill chuckled softly, having dealt with this particular goblin on more than one occasion. He almost felt bad for Hagrid; some of the other goblins that transported wizards to their vaults were much more personable, and at least tried to keep their clients somewhat happy.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners.

Neville's eyebrows went up again. There's still deeper vaults? I thought the purebloods were on the lowest level because they had the largest rooms and were the most secure?" He blushed and slouched down in his seat when Bill simply burst out laughing.

Many people were taken aback—they had all thought it was a fairly reasonable question, and Bill wasn't usually so unkind to mock someone. When he caught his breath, the eldest Weasley son realized he had a few hard stares directed toward him, and he quickly explained.

"Oh, sorry Neville, It's just that, most people think the same as you. It seems most have forgotten their history lessons about Goblins." He glanced around and found an attentive audience. Even Minerva seemed intrigued by what he was going to say.

"Gringotts only became a public bank for Wizards when Diagon Alley started becoming more popular as a shopping area. Before that, no one had a need to have their money on hand in London. But that doesn't mean that was when the vaults were built. As you know, Goblins have been making artefacts and weapons for centuries, and they don't like to share. What better way to keep their hoards safe from Wizards than hiding them underground in the rock where they couldn't be detected, or even reached?

"Even now, Wizards only have ownership of a very small area of the whole underground maze that the Goblins came up with, and it is only those with great influence or magical law behind them that get access to the lower vaults. It's really no surprise Griphook is being so surly…not only does he have to let Albus down to the more private and secret area, not Hagrid and Harry are being given access as well to closely guarded areas and secrets."

Bill took a deep breath, and noticed that everyone appeared to be processing all this still. Luna, however, was nodding her head as if she had already known what he was going to say. When she noticed his quizzical stare, she simply shrugged.

"It makes sense; the goblins would need a safe place to live, especially now that Minister Fudge has decided to increase his pie-baking operation." Almost as one, the room turned to the blonde in astonishment, but all she said—as she gestured at Arthur to continue reading—was, "I told you, Daddy is doing an expose on the minister in his next issue; you really should read it when it prints."

And on that note, Arthur decided it was time enough to get back to the book.

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.

"And yet," Ron mumbled to Hermione with something between a grin and a grimace, "This is the same man who sent Harry upon the back of a semi-wild, grumpy Hipogriff without thinking twice."

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

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

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

"How very…effective," Remus commented delicately. Hearing him, Hermione couldn't help but laugh to herself.

"Yes, effective," she muttered to Ron, who was looking between her and the werewolf, "unless there happens to be something inside said vault that makes someone immortal…like a sorcerer's stone." Ron stifled a laugh while his friend continued to shake her head at the irony of it all.

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.

"Well, I hope he keeps a better eye on this 'top secret package' than he did on Harry's vault key," Molly muttered, a little grumpily. Each chapter seemed to taking longer than the last, and the mood in the book had still only improved minimally.

Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

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

"I would hope so," Sirius said, "That little heathen's parents buy him so many things, Merlin only knows what he would use actual money for."

"Hmm," George began considering out loud. He glanced at Fred with a raised eyebrow, which his brother simply mirrored. Then, with a decisive nod, he said, "Yep, I would definitely say food." Not being able to deny the logic of this statement, most people just rolled their eyes while Arthur continued to read as if his son hadn't just said anything.

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

"A good place to start, getting all the essentials," Minerva commented, silently adding that this was especially the case for eleven-year-old Potter.

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

"He really left an eleven year old alone, in the middle of a shopping area, with a bag full of more money than he's ever had in his life, and trusts him to go buy clothes?" Sirius was, to say the least, flabbergasted. Minerva had simply winced, while Severus had a look that basically said 'just-as-I-thought'.

Many of the teenagers had a wistful look on their face—as if it was a dream of their eleven-year-old selves to have been given free rein in Diagon Alley.

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

"And trust Harry to do exactly that," Ron chuckled.

"Until he met you, Ron" Ginny returned with a smirk while her brother's face flushed.

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

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

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

Remus wrinkled his brow, trying to figure out which of his former students this could be. There was one that came to mind almost immediately, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions.

"You can stop thinking so hard, Lupin, you might hurt yourself." Severus sneered at the werewolf and his flaring sidekick. "Mr. Potter did, in fact, meet Mr. Malfoy." He turned when he heard Minerva sigh, and he saw she was shaking her head slightly.

"There's no need to be rude, Severus." She was looking at him reprovingly, but the Potions Master seemed unruffled. "There aren't many other people in this room who are on such close speaking terms with the Malfoy family."

"Don't know why anyone would ever want to be, either," Sirius sneered under his breath with a frown.

Noticing that the potential argument had been defused, Arthur figured the muttering would stop if he started reading again, so he picked the book up and cleared his throat—a little louder than necessary, but enough to catch people's attention.

Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

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

"Yes," said Harry.

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

"I would have liked to see him try," Minerva and Severus had spoken almost simultaneously, though they were referring to two different things. The black haired professor had been thinking about young Malfoy's little-known secret—he was as intimidated by his father as most other adult wizards.

Minerva was simply thinking of her secret weapon on the first day of school—the house elves were fairly good about letting her know if anything too forbidden had been smuggled in while the luggage was being transported to the different house dormitories (the Weasley twins were the only students who had managed to elude her every September—she suspected bribery was involved, but could never prove it).

While most of the adults were looking on in amusement at the two Hogwarts professors, Hermione just simply huffed and crossed her arms.

"That's so typical of him, though, trying to show off before he even knows Harry's name," she said, rolling her eyes. Many people who knew the blonde boy had to agree (even Severus, though he would never admit that to anyone other than himself). Ron simply laughed.

"Yeah, but you know Malfoy, Hermione, he's all big words but no follow through. Besides, it's not like it helped him much in our flying lesson." He broke out into more laughter while his bushy-haired friend simply rolled her eyes again in exasperation. Nobody—including Neville and Minerva (who had only seen a part of the whole debacle)—knew what they were referring to, and decided to ignore them.

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"That would be a very good incentive for animosity," Remus commented, suddenly understanding. "Anybody acting like his cousin, however unknowingly, would have a very hard time endearing themselves to Harry, I would imagine."

"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.

"What a wondrous day it was, indeed, dear brother, when little Harry discovered the joys of Quidditch" George exalted with a huge grin on his face.

"Dark days they were, indeed, my brother, when young Harry was ignorant of his Seeking talent." Fred, with an identical grin was nodding along enthusiastically, to the amusement of all the Gryffindor students in the room.

"If you really believe that," Minerva interrupted the students, with what could only be described as a mischievous light in her eyes, "Then you should probably be thanking Malfoy for his help, rather than picking fights with him all the time."

Having finally made many of the Weasley children speechless—and a good number of the adults curious—she simply smiled politely and asked Arthur to continue.

"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?"

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

"I like the Hufflepuffs," Luna suddenly broke in, apparently coming out of the daze she'd been sitting in for the last few pages. Everyone looked at her, expecting her to continue, but after a few seconds of listening to her humming quietly and examining one of the far bookshelves, Arthur shrugged and picked up the reading again.

"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. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"He seems to be feeling better after 'calming his nerves'," Remus said with a smile.

Meanwhile, Molly was whispering to her husband, quiet enough to not interrupt his reading. "Hagrid really does have a heart of gold, doesn't he?" Seeing the way that he took care of Harry, her worries about Albus sending the groundskeeper were quieted, though not entirely gone.

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

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

"That's a little hypocritical coming from someone slated to be one of the dark lord's 'servants' in a few years," Sirius muttered almost viciously under his breath.

"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 - 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."

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

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

"There's that Slytherin subtlety they're all known for!" George said sarcastically with a roll of is eyes. Not even Severus could believe the sheer rudeness of the younger Malfoy; it was little wonder to the Potions master why the boy had only ever hung around with children he'd known since infancy—he put off any new acquaintances with his poor behavior.

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

"I don't think anyone would, with the way he's acting," Ginny was wondering how he had ever found this boy and his attitude intimidating. Now she just found it annoying.

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

Bill shook his head, "And he just keeps digging his hole deeper…is he even listening to himself?" Needless to say, no one felt the need to answer such an obviously rhetorical question.

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear,"

"That was nice timing," Neville said brightly, perking up at the thought of Harry moving on to more interesting parts of Diagon Alley.

"Serendipitous, yes…" Remus said consideringly, "But with Madame Malkin standing there for the entire conversation, I doubt it was just luck that she set one of the boys on their way at that moment."

Sirius snorted skeptically. "She was always one of the diztier shop owners, Remus, and I doubt it's gotten any better as she's aged. I bet she stopped listening after she heard the word 'Quidditch'." He still hadn't quite come out of his foul mood, and so far this chapter hadn't been as entertaining as he had been hoping.

"But," Remus countered, "She's also not a fan of confrontations, and has always done her best to keep things running smoothly and all her customers happy. Why do you think she never let you and James get fitted at the same time?"

Despite his mood swings, Sirius still managed a smirk at that memory, while Minerva's estimation of Madam Malkin's sensibility moved up a notch or two.

and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

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

"Who would want to after that conversation?" Bill was a little shocked at the manners from such a 'well-bred' pureblood, and could see why his siblings shared no love for the boy and anyone he hung around with.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What a strange combination," Hermione was wrinkling her nose a little, "How did Hagrid decide on that, of all things, for Harry?" Ron frowned when she turned to him.

"I don't think Harry minded, considering his only other experience with ice cream was a cheap lemon ice pop."

"Nice of you to try and keep our spirits up, Ronnie-boy" Fred grumbled when he saw Hermione and Ginny slump a little in their seats at the reminder. He and George were finding their job of 'keeping everyone in good cheer' an exhausting one at the moment, and he didn't appreciate his brother blundering in and ruining things.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

Now Hermione was frowning again as well. "I don't think he's ever uttered those words truthfully in his entire life."

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.

Severus raised an eyebrow, "He's just lucky he never tried to use that for any of my assignments; his penmanship was horrible enough as it was." Minerva was once again rolling her eyes at her colleague, and replied tartly.

"His handwriting is no worse than any other students, Severus. In fact, it is better than quite a few of your Slytherins'."

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 pate boy in Madam Malkin's.

"He's never been able to keep anything from Hagrid," Hermione said, almost-wistfully. She and Ron had talked about this once or twice—they weren't jealous…they just wished Harry had as much confidence in them as he did in Hagrid.

"By all accounts, the same can be said when Hagrid is upset," Minerva said. She had heard Albus mention something along those lines a few times, but she hadn't realized how unique the relationship really was.

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

"Yer not from a Muggle family.

"If only things were that black and white, Hagrid," Sirius said, sadly.

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!"

"A very valid point," Severus muttered to himself, though he could tell that most of the other people in the room were thinking the same. It seemed that now the story was picking up, and Mr. Weasley was getting through longer sections, people were less inclined to continue interrupting.

"So what is Quidditch?"

George snorted, his brother following mere milliseconds later.

"Nice segue, Harry!"

"At least the boy has his priorities in order: who cares about prejudice when there are sports to talk about!"

"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."

Remus had to check himself before his hands ended up over his eyes in disbelief.

"Well, at least that was better than his explanation of stalagmites," he sighed, amid the chuckles from the teenagers.

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

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

"I know he wasn't a professor at this point, but don't you think that's a little judgemental of Hagrid?" Bill asked, "I always thought he got along with almost everyone."

"I've never heard Hagrid say anything like that about the Hufflepuffs, either," Hermione said in consideration. "Seems like an odd time for him to say that…" She trailed off when Mr. Weasley—of all people—coughed in a very poor attempt to cover up a chuckle. With all eyes turned to him, he coughed again in embarrassment.

"Sorry, it's just nobody seemed to hear me correctly," he said with a shrug. When most people continued to stare at him in confusion, he continued; "well, Hagrid didn't sound like he was finished with his thought. He added a 'but' in there, but his sentence gets cut off in the book, so who knows what he would have said. I'd like to think he was going to refute that general assessment of the house."

"Well, who interrupted him?" Ron asked loudly.

"You would know by now if I hadn't been interrupted myself" Mr. Weasley said pointedly, and as the room grew quiet again, he started reading.

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

"I alw—" Luna had once again decided to jump in randomly, but unlike before, she was interrupted by Ginny.

"We know, Luna," she said, doing her best not to add an eye roll. "You've already mentioned that." The blonde in question simply blinked.

"Have I?" she looked around, seeing a lot of her fellow school mates nodding, though not everyone was succeeding in hiding laughter. "Oh…I don't remember ever talking about Harry's sorting…" she turned back to Mr. Weasley, but he simply looked back at her in confusion.

"I think Ms Weasley may have been putting the carriage before the Thestral…why don't you finish your thought, Ms Lovegood," Minerva said after a few awkward seconds of silence. Luna nodded and started again.

"I was just saying that I always thought Harry would make a good Hufflepuff," she said, "he seems like a very forgiving person."

Seeing as she was finished, Mr. Weasley began speaking rather quickly, so as to avoid another awkward pause.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly.

"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"There's the unbiased Hagrid we know and love," George chortled, while Severus scowled.

"He's also completely inaccurate, and he knows it." He sneered in the direction of Sirius, who just rolled his eyes.

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

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

"It wasn't actually that long ago, in terms of Wizarding history," Hermione spoke up again, in her 'lecture voice' (as Ron had named it). "In fact, Hagrid was in school with him, so unless Hagrd wants to make himself seem older than he is, he probably shouldn't keep talking like that."

Severus could have sworn he heard Minerva mumble "Indeed" next to him, and he smirked. No many people ever actually thought enough about it to realize the deputy headmistress had also been in school with the then-named Tom Riddle. He suspected she preferred it that way as well.

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.

"That's pushing it a little, Harry" Ron had one eyebrow up skeptically.

Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue- Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

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

"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."

"And besides, Hagrid's already gone and done that for you, Harry," Ginny chuckled along with Neville and Ron at Harry's idea, but the boys were quickly cowed b Hermione's sharp stare as she turned to them.

"You shouldn't encourage them and their mischief, Ginny!" the older girl pointed out, resolutely ignoring Ron's coughing fit that sounded more like the word "hypocrite" than it did a tickle in his throat.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope.

"At least Hagrid knows how to be exceedingly practical," Sirius shook his head slightly, thinking about the fact that he once had to talk his crazy mother out of buying a pure silver cauldron for Regulus because she had wanted one that "properly reflected his heritage" to the other students.

Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Harry, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

No wonder he started out so poorly in class, Severus scoffed to himself, not even paying attention to the ingredients he needs to be familiar with for class, and simply indulging him own whims! He rolled his eyes, while managing to avoid meeting the sideways glance sent to him by Minerva, as if she knew (and disapproved) of what he was saying in the privacy of his own mind.

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

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

"I thought the cake was Hagrid's present to Harry?" Neville scrunched up his forehead in confusion. His question brought a good number of the others up short, however, as they pondered the same thing. It was Bill who finally answered the Gryffindor's lingering question.

"If I remember correctly…I don't think Hagrid ever said the cake was Harris present…" he spoke hesitantly, as if he couldn't quite remember. Mr. Wesley flipped quickly back to the previous chapter, and nodded as he found the right passage.

"You're right, Bill, all Hagrid says is 'Got sommat for yeh' but nothing about a present." As the patriarch found his place once more, the room settled back down.

Harry felt himself go red.

"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 –

Neville felt his cheeks turning red, despite his best efforts to prevent them, but before he could check the rest of the room to see if anyone else was staring at him, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Ron speak in an almost nonexistent voice. "I'd take Trevor over Hermione's stupid mop of a cat any day…"

Apparently, the poor boy wasn't quiet enough, however, and Neville chuckled weakly as his dorm mate was whacked fairly violently by their female year mate.

an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze.

"See, I'm not the only one who thinks so…" Still pouting about his best friend's violent tendencies, the red head managed one last stab at crookshanks before surrendering in a slouch.

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.

Upon hearing this, most of the teens looked around warily, as if suddenly realizing Harry's feathered companion hadn't returned after last night.

"Maybe she finally gave up and went back to Harry?" Hermione said in response to the confused silence. No one had an answer; not even Luna, who Ginny was now considering suspiciously.

Meanwhile, Sirius' face had fallen back into a depressed frown, and Remus couldn't figure out why. "Sirius?" he said, quietly enough that the rest of the room ignored the pair while they were worrying about Hedwig's whereabouts.

The black-haired man simply shrugged, and turned with a fairly pitiful (in Remus' opinion) look on his face. "How can anyone compete with that, Moony? He bought Harry his first friend."

And like a light bulb suddenly going off, Remus knew what he problem was. Unfortunately, now was neither the time nor place to talk to Sirius about his fears. As it was, all the werewolf could do was pat his friend on the shoulder, and mutter. "You idiot…you're over thinking things again."

He must not been have as quiet as he hoped, however, because the ex-professor saw Minerva turn to the men's couch out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't reassure her, however, as Arthur picked up the story at that moment.

He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Tired of getting glares from his colleague, Severus settled for mentally rolling his eyes at Hagrid's sentiment.

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.

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; 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.

"Ollivander always was good at setting the mood," Arthur said with a laugh.

"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.

"He was definitely not that creepy when I got my wand…" Ron said, with his eyebrows up. "What about you Hermione?" The girl in question blushed a little.

"Well, everything was so extraordinary the first time I went to Diagon Alley…" she began, not really waning to admit that Ollivander had reminded her of many of the books she had read as a little girl—over the top, and not a little bit unbelievable—"…my parents thought it all was fairly quaint." She ended with a small smile. As much as long as Professor McGonagall had spent talking to the family of three, her parents had reacted more like they were at a faire where everyone was in costume when they went and bought Hermione's supplies…up until she received her wand, and silver confetti had appeared out of nowhere.

"Maybe he only does that with muggleborns," Bill suggested with a laugh. It said a lot about Ollivander's personality that no one questioned how the man would know a muggle-raised child vs. a wizard-raised child before he ever met them. Rather, they all chuckled a little and got back to the story.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

"Indeed," Minerva said in an undertone. Filius had gone on almost as much as Horace had about Lily's aptitude in his classes.

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 nodded to hrself again, almost—but not entirely—lost down memory lane. It made sense that a teenage boy who could become a full-fledged Animagus—in secret—with no trained mentor to guide him would find his match in a wand that leant itself to transfiguration.

Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

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

"Definitely creepy," Neville shivered. He was almost glad Gran had refused to let him use a wand other than his father's; he wasn't sure what he would have done in the strange wandmaker's presence.

"And that's where..."

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

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

"…Ollivander could set up a side shop for Divination," Sirius mumbled, speaking for the first time in a little while. It was only under his breath, and he wasn't actually talking to anyone, but Remus took this as a good sign nonetheless, and gave his friend another pat on the shoulder.

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid.

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

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

"Not bendy enough, however…" Sirius' black humor was starting to come out again, and Remus seriously hoped something positive happened soon. The Black's melancholy was starting to effect the whole room, slowly but surely.

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

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

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

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Of course Harry would notice that," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"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?"

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

"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."

"As much as purebloods understand the value of an individual's wand, they are quite stuck on tradition and sentiment, aren't they?" Luna suddenly spoke up, inadvertently saving Neville from any awkward questions (his hand had strayed to his wand almost on its own, and he had a slightly pained expression on his face that only Ginny had noticed thus far).

"What do you mean, Ms Lovegood?" Minerva prompted the girl after a few seconds where it became clear no one was following the girl's train of thought.

"It always seems like there are a lot of wizards using their relative's wands out of sentimentality, rather than buying their own" She said simply.

"She's right, you know," Bill spoke up, a little surprised that he was agreeing with the decidedly odd girl. "There's plenty of stories in the history books of people stealing famous wands, and then being defeated because they weren't compatible with their magic." He was stopped from continuing by a very loud—and fake—yawn from his brother.

"As much as we'd love to hear a history of magic lesson right now, Bill," Fred began with an eye roll. "I'd rather hear how dear Harry's introduction to his own wand goes." George nodded eagerly, making "subtle" hand gestures to his father to start reading. Arthur and Bill merely shared an exasperated glance, and the red headed wizard began again.

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

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

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

Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

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

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh?"

"How many wands does it usually take before Ollivander finds the right one?" Neville asked, curious despite himself.

"That all depends on the person, Mr. Longbottom," Remus answered him kindly. "It took me quite a while to find a wand; certain elements of my….personality….weren't very agreeable with some of them." The boy nodded, while Sirius snorted at his friend's delicate answer.

"Then there's my family….I think Ollivander had seen enough Blacks that he knew where to start." The man sniffed in disdain. "I found mine on the second try." He forced a slightly happier expression on his face as he continued.

"One of the advantages of having all long-lived and/or paranoid relatives," he winked a Luna, "Any wand I would have inherited still had an owner, or had been cursed upon their death, as they were all convinced someone would attempt to steal the family secrets if they got their hands on a wand."

Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

"Impressive," Remus nodded, picturing Harry with a surprised expression on his face. Sirius turned to his friend with a smile that could have also been a grimace.

"Just wait a minute…"

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

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

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

"When it comes to you, Harry, is there anything that isn't curious?" Ginny asked cynically. Everyone was too intrigued to even turn in her direction, let alone reply, however: they all wanted to know what was curious, too.

Remus did have time to shoot a suspicious look at Sirius; he had a feeling his friend knew something he wasn't sharing.

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."

"…" Nobody really knew what to say, but there were quite a few surprised expressions throughout the room. Sirius nodded slightly – that was how he felt at the end of the Tournament last year when he was present for Albus' and Harry's conversation about the same thing.

"It gets better," He said, loud enough to catch everyone's attention. They all turned to his grimly amused expression—even Severus was willing to listen to the dog if he gained more information about this secret that both Albus and the Dark Lord had kept from him.

"The Phoenix feathers…they were from Fawkes." He stated bluntly, to which Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gasped loudly.

"That explains so much!" Ginny said in explanation. The other two were nodding excitedly, as if a piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place.

"Fawkes has always had a soft spot for Harry," Hermione confirmed, thinking. "And it does make a perverse sort of sense…with how many times Harry's basically evaded death, a phoenix feather wand is fairly symbolic, if not downright prophetic."

The Potions professor was nodding (along with everyone else), thinking about how accurate that statement was for the other half of the equation as well. The Dark Lord had been flirting with death long before he was 'defeated' by the one year old Potter, though the death eater couldn't imagine Voldemort getting too cozy with Fawkes.

With the big surprise finally making its way out of people's systems, the room had quieted down slightly, and Arthur picked the book back up.

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."

"I suppose that's one interpretation of things…" Bill muttered.

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; he didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

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

"What does he mean by 'your train'?" Molly asked suspiciously, suddenly having visions of a small eleven-year-old Harry lost on the London Underground with no money, food, or way to get anywhere.

"I'm sure it's fine, Molly," Arthur soothed, "Hagrid's probably jut referring to the specific train they need to get back to Privet Drive."

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

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

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

"It can be a little overwhelming, even for students raised in the Wizarding world," Minerva said sympathetically. As with Molly, her doubts about Hagrid's ability to properly prepare Harry were one again at the fore of her thoughts.

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

"Well, he definitely doesn't have that problem now," Sirius grumbled, "not that it's any comfort."

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

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."

"He does know how to make you feel better, though," Hermione smiled sadly, remembering that awful time in Third year when she spent more time in the gamekeeper's hut than in her own common room.

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... See yeh soon, Harry."

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.

Arthur closed the book in silence and surveyed the room.

"Wait…that's it? He just dropped Harry on a train and disappeared?" Sirius had blanched in surprise. When the Wealsey just looked back at him with a shrug, he shook his head in disbelief. "Just when I thought Hagrid was doing alright, he goes and pulls a stunt like that…how in Merlin's name did Harry get back to Privet Drive from the train station? It's not like the Dursleys would be willing to pick him up….they may have still been on that stupid rock in the ocean!" He was interrupted in his stride by Severus, however.

"There's no point in whining about it Black; you're not going to find any answers here, so why don't you be quiet so we can keep going and finish this blasted undertaking as soon as possible."

"Honestly Severus, there's no need for…"

"You know what I think, Snape? You're a…"

"Was it really necessary to pick a fight right now…"

Four voices all clashed as the volume rose, suddenly filling the Library and making the space seem much smaller than it had minutes ago. The teens looked on in surprise, and a little bit of amusement. Hermione attempted to interrupt the group, but was simply drowned out, until Molly grew impatient and pulled her wand out.

POP POP POP!

The noise effectively pulled everyone's attention, and she cleared her throat when all eyes were on her.

"Thank you! Now, if we want to finish another chapter before Lunch, I suggest we all calm down and begin, otherwise this book alone will take a week, and the other six look much longer." Nobody wanted to argue, and so she picked up the book, and looked around one more. "So, who would like to continue?" No one answered, though a few people looked curious enough to consider volunteering.

"Uhh…what's the next chapter about?" Ron asked. His mother found the page and passed the book over. "Hmm…The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," he read aloud, his face brightening. "It's the train ride! That means we show up, Hermione!" He smiled suddenly.

"Does that mean you want to read, Ronnie-kins?" Fred asked with a laugh at his brother's enthusiasm. However, the youngest brother suddenly paled, remembering exactly how Harry and his conversation had gone, he shook his head.

"No way! Uhh…" he looked around half desperately, "Neville! Why don't you read?" With that he thrust the book into his dorm mate's arms. The poor boy was so startled he almost dropped it, but gamely collected himself.

"Alright, I suppose…" He took a deep breath, and began.

AN: Me again... just wanted to add one more sorry in here, but don't worry, it looks like each progressive chapter I write gets longer than the last, so hopefully you don't think I cheated you!

Thanks again for sticking with me, and don't forget to leave your two cents... especially if you think I need some guidance.

Also, for anyone still reading this, I had a thought: I know many of you disagree with leaving Harry at the Dursley's right now, so I will CONSIDER bringing him in IF you can propose a way to do so without bypassing any of the problems previously mentioned, including not alerting Albus to the change in plans (which I think will be the hardest problem to avoid), and KEEPING Harry under everyone's radar. I'm not guaranteeing I will change my mind, but I know my imagination sometimes has its limits, and I'd like to think I am open minded enough to take suggestions.

That is all... Happy 2014!

Toodles,

Voice-on-the-wind