CHAPTER FIVE
DIAGON
ALLEY
Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it
was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.
"It was a dream, he told himself firmly. "I dreamed a giant
called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open
my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."
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.
"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."
He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. The hut was
full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed
sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in
its beak.
Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a
large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked
it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who
didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack
Hagrid's coat.
"Don't do that."
Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its
beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.
"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl
"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.
"What?"
"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the
pockets." Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of
keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally,
Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.
"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."
"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! 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."
"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. 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.
"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.
"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, 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?"
"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid
pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and
they sped off toward land.
"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry
asked.
"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper
as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the highsecurity 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. 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.
"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,
0 ' 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."
"Why?"
"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to
their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall.
Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the
street.
Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the
little town to the station. Harry couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice
as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like
parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream
up, eh?"
"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did
you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"
"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a
dragon."
"You'd like one?"
"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go."
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.
"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:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain
pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon
hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name
tags
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
wand cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) set
glass or crystal phials
telescope set
brass
scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR
OWN BROOMSTICKS
"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered
aloud.
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.
Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed
to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an
ordinary way. 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 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.
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? 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.
"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. 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. 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, clapping
his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harry, "is
this — can this be --?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and
silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter...
what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry 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.
Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment,
Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky
Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at
last."
"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.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of
his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell
will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's
hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."
"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. "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.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to
himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid
managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."
Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid
led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was
nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
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. 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. "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. They stepped through the
archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink
instantly back into solid wall.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the
nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver —
Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get
yer money first."
Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. 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 - — " 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. 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.
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. 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."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore,"
said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the YouKnow-What in
vault seven hundred and thirteen."
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. "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.
Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he
kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a
passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late — they
plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and
stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.
I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the
cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a
stalactite?"
"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me
questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."
He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last
beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against
the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came
billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold
coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
All Harry's — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have
known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often
had they complained how much Harry cost them to keep? 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. Right,
that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh."
He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we
go more slowly?"
"One speed only," said Griphook.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air
became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling
over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what
was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the
scruff of his neck.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
"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.
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top
security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see
fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first he thought it was empty. Then
he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor.
Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know
what it was, but knew better than to ask.
"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.
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I
slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts
carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop
alone, feeling nervous.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in
mauve.
"Hogwarts, clear?" 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.
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 took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years
can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll
smuggle it in somehow."
Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.
"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.
"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?" "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.
"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy
didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of
servant, isn't he?"
"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. 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?"
"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like
going into the matter with this boy.
"Oh, sorry," said the other,. not sounding sorry at all. "But
they were our kind, weren't they?"
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you
mean."
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do
you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways.
Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter,
imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your
surname, anyway?"
But before Harry could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you
done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy,
hopped down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling
boy.
Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had
bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).
"What's up?" said Hagrid.
"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and
quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color
as you wrote. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's
Quidditch?"
"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know — not
knowin' about Quidditch!"
"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about
the pate boy in Madam Malkin's.
"--and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be
allowed in."
"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were —
he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what
everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he
know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em
in a long line 0' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a
sister!"
"So what is Quidditch?"
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like — like soccer in the
Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks
and there's four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules." "And what are
Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a
lot o' duffers, but - — "
"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff" said Harry gloomily.
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly.
"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.
You-Know-Who was one."
"Vol-, sorry — You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"
"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.
They bought Harry's school books in a shop called Flourish and
Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as
paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of
silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at
all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands
on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and
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."
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. 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).
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."
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 — an' I don'
like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls,
they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."
Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which
had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now
carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head
under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like
Professor Quirrell.
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've
had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place
fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
A magic wand... this was what Harry had been really looking
forward to.
The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over
the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B. C. A single wand
lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.
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.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must
have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly
off the spindly chair.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes
shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Harry awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you
soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It
seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a
quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm
work."
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.
Well, I say your father favored it — it's really the wand that chooses the
wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost
nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty
eyes.
"And that's where..."
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead
with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said
softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in
the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the
world to do...."
He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted
Hagrid.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again.... Oak,
sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half
when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.
"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet.
"I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander
sharply.
"Oh, no, sit," said Hagrid quickly. Harry noticed he gripped
his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
"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."
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? 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. 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?"
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."
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."
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.
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.
"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."
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."
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.
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