HARRY POTTER AND THE SOCCER STONE CHAPTER :-5

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

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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.

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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."

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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 '

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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.

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"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

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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,

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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."

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"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

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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...."

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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

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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."

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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

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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

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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.

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"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.

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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?"

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"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

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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

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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.

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"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

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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.

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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.