Measurements 2

2. Lessons to learn

Harry hazed back into consciousness sometime later, hearing a loud tapping sound, "There's Aunt Petunia to get me up" When he didn't hear her voice however, he came more awake. "That's odd. She's never that nice. Why isn't she yelling yet?" He sat up, causing Hagrid's enormous coat to fall off him in a heap. At the sight of it, the memories of the previous night came rushing back to him. He looked towards the source of the tapping to find an owl clutching a roll of oversized paper. It continued to tap at the window with one foot. It looked somewhere between resigned and impatient.

Hagrid had woken up too. "Go on, let him in." With a bit of a struggle, Harry forced the window open. The owl dropped the paper on top of Hagrid and proceeded to attack his coat. Hagrid just grunted. "He wants to be paid." He motioned at the coat. "Get some money out. It's in one of the pockets." The owl backed off at this, apparently having heard this.

Hagrid's coat seemed to be nothing but pockets. Harry found a large iron collar, what appeared to be some sort of oversized marble, and a bright green (and very much alive) mouse. Finally though, his fingers closed around what felt like coins. He pulled out a fistful of gold, silver, and bronze coins. Hagrid sat up rubbing his face.

"Give him three Knuts. They're the bronze ones." Harry counted out three of the little coins and deposited them in a pouch tied to the owl's outstretched leg. The bird dipped its head in a sort of nod and took off through the open window. Harry watched it go feeling a little deflated. He looked around and was relieved to find the clipboard he had used the night before laying in a corner, the pencil sitting neatly next to it. (Hagrid's oversized one had vanished not long after Ambervale had left.)

"How am I going to pay for my school things? You heard my uncle; he said he wouldn't pay anything." He held the clipboard out to Hagrid. He chuckled when he read it.

"Ah, don't worry about that. You don't think your parents left you with nothin' did ya?"  Harry had no answer, not that Hagrid gave him time to write one anyway. The oversized man surged to his feet. "Let's have some breakfast before we head out." He winked. "Though I wouldn't say no to a bit of your cake either, mind." After an enjoyable (if somewhat unusual) breakfast, Hagrid took Harry outside and led him towards the small boat the Dursleys had arrived in. Hagrid glanced at it. "Would you mind if I did a bit more magic? It'd get us there a lot faster." Harry shook his head, eager to see another display. Hagrid grinned.

He pointed his umbrella at the boat. It abruptly floated higher as the water inside of it drained away into thin air. Hagrid tapped the rear of the boat with the umbrella. It launched into the air and spun so it was facing the other direction. Harry could see frothing bubbles foaming up at the back of boat. The boat itself seemed to shivering in anticipation, somehow seeming eager to be off. Harry went stiff as a board when he felt Hagrid pick him up and put him in the boat. He forced himself to relax as Hagrid climbed in.

"Alright there Harry?" The boy could only nod. Hagrid didn't seem to have noticed his reaction to being picked up, or if he had, he pretended not to notice. He leaned over and still grinning, tapped the side of the boat with one finger. "Let's go." Instantly the boat shot into motion, rushing forward with a veritable roar. Harry couldn't tell if the sound was from the water or the boat.

Nearly ten minutes later they reached the shore. Harry had enjoyed the ride, but he got out quickly before Hagrid could attempt to pick him up again. It was one thing to be lifted into the air by some invisible force, but having a veritable mountain of a man do it was something else entirely. Once Hagrid was out of it, the boat rose into the air and flipped around, pointing itself in the direction of the shack. Unable to help himself, Harry leaned down and rubbed a hand along one side. The boat seemed to purr. Then it took off towards the shack, though going much more slowly.

"I've half a mind not to let it back." Harry looked up to see Hagrid scowling in the boat's direction. Then he grinned at Harry. "Course if I did that, I'd be hearing from Professor Ambervale a lot sooner than I'd like."

"What does he teach?" Hagrid frowned slightly.

"He don't really teach one subject. Likes to be more of a tutor really." Harry blinked as he suddenly realized they were standing near a subway ticket counter. There wasn't a hint of sea air anywhere. Hagrid smiled at Harry's expression. "Professor Ambervale's been at Hogwarts longer than anyone else on the staff, even the headmaster."  He paid for their tickets and ushered them into an empty compartment, where he took up an entire seat on his own. His bulk alone was more than enough to deter anyone from joining them. As he started knitting what looked like a canary yellow circus tent he said, "He knows just about anything there is ter know bout Hogwarts." Harry filed this away.

"Do I really have money like yours?" Hagrid just chuckled.

"Like I said, don't be worrying about that. Your parents didn't leave ya' flat broke. You'll see soon enough." He glanced out the window. "Almost there. Better look over your school list." Harry pulled out the letter again and found a second sheet he hadn't seen the night before. He felt his eyebrows rise as he read the book list.

"Can we find all this in London?" Hagrid chuckled again.

"If you know where ter look." As it turned out, the place to look seemed to be a little pub bearing a sign reading, "The Leaky Cauldron" in large iron letters. The image beneath it was of a witch stirring a cauldron with a cracked side. Harry noticed that people kept going to the shops on either side of the pub. In fact, he had a funny feeling that he and Hagrid were the only ones who could see it at all. Hagrid steered him inside.

The inside was noisy and crowded. There was a woman several tables away smoking a pipe. The smoke changed color every few seconds. A man at a table next to her was reading a book with large doe-like eyes on the spine. The eyes seemed to be entranced by the color changing smoke, watching as it wafted upwards.

Unsurprisingly, Hagrid was spotted almost the instant he came in. From behind the bar a wizened looking toothless man shouted, "Ah, Hagrid! Your usual I presume?" Hagrid shook his head.

"Sorry Tom. I'm here on official Hogwarts business." He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, making him stumble. "I'm taking young Harry here to get his school supplies." Tom peered at Harry before suddenly dropping the glass he was polishing.

"Bless my soul." He breathed. "It's Harry Potter." He said it quietly, but the pub went dead silent just the same. The next second literally everyone's eyes were on Harry. Even the book was staring at him. The witch kept puffing at her pipe, obviously not realizing it had gone out. Harry felt a second of foreboding. The next second every single person in the pub except for Tom was crowding around him. Hagrid reached into the throng and pulled out a tall nervous looking man wearing a purple turban.

"Didn't see you there at first, professor." He gestured at the man. "Harry, this is Professor Quirell. He teaches defense against the dark arts at Hogwarts." The man gave the boy a jerky nod.

"F-f-fearfully f-fascinating subject. N-not t-that you need it eh, P-Potter?" He turned to Hagrid. "I m-must be off. I h-have s-some r-rare supplies to p-pick up." He looked terrified at the very thought. The stuttering man was gone before either of them could reply. The crowd didn't give Harry time to dwell on the professor. They all pressed in, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back, their voices melting together into one indistinguishable mass. Harry couldn't help pressing himself back into Hagrid as they pushed closer, jostling each other out of the way. Fortunately, Hagrid seemed to understand.

"Alright, that's enough now!" He called out loudly. "Must be off. Lots ter do!" The crowd reluctantly parted as Hagrid strode forward, Harry hurrying along in his wake. They exited the pub and came out into an alley. Hagrid drew his umbrella from out of his coat and strode towards the brick wall at the back of the alley.

As he started counting bricks, Hagrid asked, "Are you alright Harry?" He looked relieved when Harry nodded. "Sorry bout' that. Didn't expect them to mob us like that. Ah, here it is." Harry watched as Hagrid tapped a particular brick three times with his umbrella. To his amazement, the bricks immediately began to shift and wiggle. Then they somehow curled themselves off to the sides, forming an archway. Hagrid waved one hand grandly at the packed sunlit street that was revealed. "Welcome Harry, to Diagon Alley."

Harry wished he had about six more pairs of eyes as they ambled down the street. He kept getting distracted by the different displays sitting outside the shops. He watched as a number of books with wings flew around in a cage sitting outside of the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts. Hagrid gently steered him forward.

"We'll be going there soon enough. First we have to get you some of your money. Fer that we'll need Gringotts, the wizard bank." He led Harry towards a white marble building. Harry thought that it looked as though it had been designed to catch the eye. It actually seemed to melt into the ground the farther back it went. Hagrid pushed open one of the mirrored doors and ushered Harry in. Harry couldn't help eyeing the poem that was etched on the inside of it. Hagrid saw the warning too.

"You'd be mad ter try and rob Gringotts. There ain't no place safer, except maybe Hogwarts." He leaned in conspiratorially and said in a stage whisper, "They say that some o' the vaults here is guarded by dragons." He chuckled as Harry's eyes went wide. "Dunno if it's true or not. Blimey though, I'd like a dragon." He sounded wistful. Harry blinked at him and followed him the rest of the way inside the building. What he saw inside made him forget all about dragons. There were long, very tall counters all through the room and broken up at regular intervals. They weren't what had Harry's attention though. That honor belonged to the creatures in fancy looking suits sitting at them.

They were all rather on the short side, though Harry supposed it may have just seemed that way since his most constant point of reference so far had been Hagrid. They all managed to be taller than he himself was, but so were nearly all kids his age. Their skin was colored normally enough, but it looked more leathery than smooth. Their ears were pointed like an elf's but they were slightly gnarled looking at the end. They were nearly bald, but he could see a few wisps of grayish white hair on their heads. One of them smiled. Harry saw it had long pointed teeth that reminded him of a bear trap. Another one picked something up off its counter. Harry saw it had long thin fingers and long, sharp looking fingernails. Hagrid caught him looking.

"Those are goblins Harry. Not the friendliest o' creatures, goblins. Wouldn't want to get on their bad side either, but when it comes to money and keeping your secrets, goblins are the best there is." Harry didn't know what to make of this assessment, but the goblins within earshot seemed to. Every last one of them smiled. Harry thought it was a combination of amusement and pride, but he couldn't be sure.

Hagrid led him to a large counter sitting up against the center of the far wall. The goblin sitting here was wearing a slightly fancier suit than the others. He was engaged in weighing what looked to be rubies as they approached. Hagrid gently cleared his throat. The goblin looked up and eyed him expectantly. Hagrid straightened up to his full height. "Mister Harry Potter wishes to make a withdrawal." The goblin gripped the edge of the counter and leaned over it until he could see Harry. He eyed him for a moment.

Finally, he said, "And does Mister Harry Potter have his key?" Its voice sounded surprisingly human, if a little throaty. Hagrid blinked.

"Oh. Hang on, got it here somewheres." The goblin looked at Hagrid for a moment and finally leaned back. Hagrid searched through his overcoat for several minutes, thumping the green mouse, (now in a cage) and a pile of what looked like moldy dog biscuits onto the counter as he did so. The goblin wrinkled his nose at the biscuits and a flicked a hand at the pile of rubies, which was dangerously close to them. The glittering mound sprouted several pairs of legs and feet and scuttled a safe distance away from the biscuits. Here it sank down, its extremities vanishing.

"Ah, here's the little devil!" Harry looked over to see Hagrid holding up a tiny gold key with a filigreed top. Hagrid set it on the counter and reached into his coat. "I have this as well." He pulled out a letter tied with string and handed it to the goblin. Harry saw that it was addressed, the head goblin, over all goblins, Gringotts, Diagon Alley. "It's from Headmaster Dumbledore. It's about the you-know-what, in vault you-know-which." The goblin eyed him for a moment before tapping the string with one long nail. The string disintegrated.

He read the letter for several minutes before finally putting it down. It promptly burst into flame. Neither the goblin nor Hagrid seemed remotely surprised by this. "Very well. I shall have Griphook take you to both vaults."

Griphook turned out to be another goblin, though he was by far the shortest one Harry had seen yet. He still managed to be an inch or two taller than Harry however, who was beginning to feel like the shortest step on a staircase. Griphook led them through a large archway. To Harry's astonishment, the polished marble floor gave way to cobblestone immediately after the archway. What appeared to be a mine cart was sitting on tracks a short distance away. Griphook took down an old looking lantern and gave it a shake. It burst into dazzling light, nearly blinding Harry, who had been the closest. Griphook quickly turned and put it in a slot in the front of the cart.

"Climb in please." His voice was higher than the other goblin's and a little reedy. Once the spots had cleared, Harry followed Hagrid into the cart. Griphook smiled now. "Hold on tight." Hagrid groaned. Harry found out very quickly why.

The cart exploded into motion, tearing down the track at breakneck speed. It made several hairpin turns at speeds that should have derailed it. He couldn't be sure, but at one point Harry thought they even turned upside down. At one intersection Harry saw what looked like a burst of fire, but it was gone by the time he turned around to look. Hagrid just groaned again and pulled him back down into his seat.

Eventually they slowed and came to a stop in front of a large, round metal door set in the stone. The stone outcropping just above it had, "Potter" carved into it. Harry, who had rather enjoyed the trip, hopped out of the cart. Hagrid on the other hand, stumbled out looking very green in the face.

Griphook ignored his plight entirely. He snapped his fingers. The lamp went out as torches flared up all around them, bathing the area in an orange glow. He took the key that the queasy Hagrid held out to him and slid a panel aside in the center of the door. He put the key into the revealed keyhole and turned it. The door instantly split down the middle and retracted into the wall. Harry felt his jaw drop at the sight that was revealed. Hagrid started chuckling as he accepted the key Griphook was holding out to him.

"Thanks." The goblin nodded. "You didn't really think your parents left you with nothin', now did you?"

Harry couldn't have formed a response if he wanted to. He simply felt too numb. Heaps of gold, piles of silver, and mounds of bronze. There were also a fair number of boxes and assorted objects scattered around the room. "Like a dragon's treasure hoard." He thought. The Dursleys couldn't have known about any of this or they'd have had it from him faster than he could blink. Hadn't they always said how much it cost them to raise him? Aunt Petunia certainly had often enough.

Hagrid didn't allow him to dwell on his thoughts for long. He produced a leather pouch from one of his innumerable coat pockets. "Right then. Let's get you set up." He started loading the pouch for him, explaining as he went. "Now the gold coins are called galleons, the silver ones are sickles, and the bronze ones are knuts." Harry listened carefully as Hagrid proceeded to explain the exchange rate. He felt like his head was going to burst by the time they left the vault, his pouch bulging.

"That'll be enough to get you some supplies fer the year, plus a little extra left over in case you see something you really want." He turned to the waiting goblin. "Next vault please, and could we go please go a little slower?" Griphook gave a thin smile.

"One speed only." Hagrid moaned but climbed in, and they were off, though Harry noticed they didn't seem to be moving as fast as they were. Perhaps it was because of the distance. In less than a minute, they rolled to a stop, Griphook proclaiming, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen." When they clambered out, Griphook marched up to the door and stroked a finger down it. A series of unlocking sounds came from the door. Griphook glanced over to Harry.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked inside with no way to get out." He correctly interpreted Harry's questioning look. "We check about once every ten years or so." This time his smile was decidedly nasty. Harry looked at the vault, wondering what on earth would need protections that strong. When the vault swung open, he leaned forward to get a better look.

He couldn't help being a little disappointed. There was nothing in the brightly lit vault except for a small object wrapped in brown paper and tied with plain string. Hagrid scooped it up and stuffed it into a coat pocket. "I'd appreciate if you'd keep this ter yourself Harry." He grinned when Harry nodded. "Right then. Let's get going. Lots ter buy after all." Harry nodded.

One harrowing cart ride later, and they were stumbling out into the bright sunlight. Hagrid looked decidedly green, but he shook it off quickly. "I'll be fine. Them carts just don't agree with me." He glanced around the street. "Let's get your wand first. I expect you're quite keen on that."

Harry was actually. "A wand!" This was what he had really been the most eager for. A chance to have something that he could say was his and no one else's.

"We'll need Ollivander's for that. There ain't no place better." Hagrid pointed to a shop near the end of the alley that had a very old looking wand sitting on top of a faded purple cushion. The inside of the building looked just as aged. Every inch of wall space was filled with thousands of small, thin, dusty boxes. There was an especially spindly looking chair sitting in one corner that Hagrid sank into. There was a counter in front of them. Like everything else, it had a rather thick layer of dust on it. Even the air seemed to be dusty.

"Good afternoon." The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped as well, because the chair made a rather ominous cracking sound. He got out of it hastily. The owner of the voice emerged from the swirling dusty gloom behind the counter. With his pale eyes and shock of white hair, he looked just as old as his shop did. The man gave him a short bow. "I am Mister Ollivander." Upon catching sight of Harry's scar, he brightened noticeably. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you in here, Mister Potter." Harry was not given much time to dwell on this statement. The man immediately bustled out from behind the counter and started looking over boxes.

"Seems like only yesterday your mother and father were in here buying their first wands, Mister Potter." His fingers closed on a particular box and pulled it out. "Ah. Yew and dragon heartstring. Twelve inches." He handed the wand inside to Harry. After a moment of Harry standing there and feeling foolish, he said, "Well go on then. Give it a wave."

Harry waved it. The wand promptly reared back, looking rather like a snake about to strike, and let out a loud sneeze. The spindly chair broke collapsed into a heap of tiny wooden pieces. Mister Ollivander winced. He pulled his own wand out from somewhere and waved it, restoring the chair. "I think not." He perused the shelves for a moment. "How about this one? Willow and unicorn tail, ten inches." This time, waving the wand caused the entire room to be plunged into a solid blackness that took Ollivander several minutes to properly dispel.

The testing process continued onward, the rejects piling up on the chair. Harry wished he knew what Mister Ollivander was looking for. Ollivander appeared to be more and more delighted with each successive failure. Despite the continuing damage to his shop, the man continued to search for different wands, muttering things like, "Haven't had anyone this difficult in years. Splendid, simply splendid!"

After a half hour of successive failures, Harry was beginning to wonder if Hagrid and Ambervale had made some mistake about him after all. He waved his current test wand, "Elder wood and phoenix feather, twelve inches." Then he let out a soundless scream and leaped to the side as all the rejected wands rose into the air and hurled themselves at him like a cloud of tiny javelins. They embedded themselves into the wall of boxes behind him. Very shaken, Harry dropped the wand as though it were on fire.

As he took a calming drink of something from a flask Hagrid pulled out of his coat, Ollivander eyed the wall of wands and said quietly, "I wonder." He slipped off into the back and returned seconds later with yet another box. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven and a half inches." He held it out for Harry to take.

He almost refused. That last failure had made him very wary of wands in general. In the end though, he took a deep breath and took it from the wand maker's grasp. Instantly warmth surged from the handle into his hand. He shivered slightly and waved it. A fountain of red and gold sparks erupted from the tip and drifted downward, sparkling onto the ground like glitter. Hagrid let out a whoop and Mister Ollivander applauded.

"Wonderful!" Ollivander took the wand back and put it back in the box. A flick of his own wand had the rejects pulling out of the wall and re-boxing themselves. Mister Ollivander meanwhile rang up Harry's wand on an extremely old looking register. "Curious. Most curious indeed." Hagrid looked at Harry, who shrugged.

"Sorry, but what's curious?" Ollivander looked up at them sharply as he counted out money from the bag Harry held out.

"Gentlemen, I remember every wand I've ever sold." He pushed the bag and wand over to Harry. "It just so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides in this wand gave one other feather, just one. It's curious that Mister Potter should be destined for this wand-" He paused for a moment and pointed at Harry's forehead. "When its brother gave him that scar." Neither Harry or Hagrid had any response to make to this.

A cheery, "Have a good day!" from Ollivander followed them as they exited the dusty shop. Studiously ignoring this, Hagrid squinted down at Harry's list.

"Let's see. We still need books, robes, supplies, and potion ingredients. He glanced around before his gaze landed on a number of pet stores. Oh, yeah, and I still have to get you a birthday present." Harry's mouth dropped open and he started to write out a protest. Hagrid waved it off. "You ain't gonna change my mind. Can't get you a toad, you'll be laughed at, and cats make me sneeze. Tell you what; I'll get you an owl. Dead useful they are." He led a dumbstruck Harry into Eyelops Owl Emporium.

They emerged a short while later with an enormous snowy owl. Harry thought he must have scribbled thank you at least twenty times before he managed to make it look legible. Hagrid just chuckled. "Thank me by picking a good name for her." He said it gruffly, but Harry could tell he was amused. The gigantic man laughed outright when Harry gave an emphatic nod. "Alright then, next up is your books. We'll need to go to Flourish and Blotts for those."

The bookstore was as interesting as Ollivander's was dusty. It was wall-to-wall books, though considerably more organized than the wand maker's store. Harry ended up getting several books that were recommended as extras in addition to his textbooks. He had briefly considered getting some of the fiction variety of books too, but had abandoned that idea when Hagrid had told just how large the library was at Hogwarts. He did end up getting himself a journal though.

Their next stop was the apothecary. Harry found it so fascinating that he was almost able to ignore the horrible smell that permeated it. Hagrid stumped up to the counter and asked for the standard student potion kit. While this was being arranged, Harry let his gaze wander over the various ingredients piled around the store. Bicorn horn, beetle legs, fwooper feathers, billywig stings, and ruby dust. This was just what was in front of him. Harry was beginning to think that he might really enjoy potions.

They stopped for a snack at Florean Fortescue's. Florean himself was jovial man who seemed to laugh quite a lot. Harry didn't really think much about the ice-cream seller as he was more focused on the patently enormous sundae he had been served. He couldn't manage to eat more than half of it. When he finally pushed the bowl away, feeling fit to burst, a large sheet of parchment (As Harry had learned it was called.) appeared out of thin air and landed on top of the confection. Hagrid hurriedly rescued it from the clutches of the sundae and sat back reading it for a moment.

Finally he said, "It's from Professor Ambervale." He leaned over and said in a stage whisper, "He don't usually send messages this way. He tends to have the worst timing for it and he knows it. I saw one get eaten by ants once before anyone could read it. Suppose he figured he could risk it this time." He grinned. "Don't think he reckoned on the ice cream though." Harry grinned too.  "He says that he'll be escorting you onto the train on the day it leaves." He shook some stray ice cream off and pulled something off the bottom of it. "This is your ticket. Make sure you don't lose it. Professor Ambervale says he'll meet you at the station." Harry nodded and tucked it into the journal he'd bought.

"Are you all finished?" Harry nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed. Hagrid grinned again. "He always gives people more'n they can eat. Cept fer me, I suppose." Harry grinned back. The ice cream vanished along with the dishes when they both got up. Hagrid consulted the list.

"We still need to get your potions equipment, robes, quills, ink, parchment, a trunk,-" He broke off and started laughing at the rather wide eyed look Harry was giving him. "Don't worry, most o' that falls under the basic supplies group." Harry wasn't very reassured.

Harry found the equipment to be just as fascinating as the ingredients. Hagrid wouldn't let him get a gold cauldron, "The potions in class are designed to work in pewter. Gold causes trouble with em." But he did let him buy a book on "fun and easy potions" that looked interesting to work with.

After that, Hagrid took him to find a proper trunk since, "It'll be needed sooner rather than later." This particular experience ended up being another of the more memorable ones from that day for Harry. He had been looking at a trunk that had been advertised as having, "extra room." He hadn't expected this to be literal. Someone had accidentally bumped into him from behind, causing him to trip and fall in. Instead of landing inside the trunk, he kept falling, landing hard on, of all things, a camp bed. He found he was inside a room. It had a makeshift dresser along with the camp bed, and a small bathroom behind an open door near one corner. Looking up, he found not a ceiling but instead the top of the trunk, and the underside of the lid, which was fortunately not closed. Harry might have been more impressed with the whole thing if it weren't for the fact that he didn't have a clue as to how to get out.

Fortunately, Hagrid had turned around from another trunk just in time to see him fall in. The trunk must have had more magic than just the room, because all Hagrid had to do was reach inside the trunk. He somehow managed to reach down and grasp Harry's arm, gently pulling him up. Harry experienced a strange twisting sensation, and then he was suddenly back on solid ground in front of the trunk.  He backed away from it hastily. Hagrid just chuckled. "We'll just avoid those eh?" Harry just nodded.

The trunk they left with had "extra room" too, though to in this case, the term meant that it could expand to hold more items, rather than having a bedroom attached. It quickly became useful as they visited several successive supply shops.  The quill shop, Scrivenshaft's, was as fascinating to Harry as the apothecary had been. Quills of more varieties than he knew existed took up almost every inch of available space. The little old man that ran the shop was bald on top but had two rather luxurious looking long tufts of hair on either side of his head, making it look like he had quills rather than hair on his head. On a whim, he bought a set of quills advertised as being of "sketching quality" along with some for regular school use. This piqued Hagrid's interest.

"You like to draw, Harry?" He shrugged.

"A bit. One of my teachers said I was pretty good at it, but it's mostly something I do when I'm bored." This was usually when he was spending hours on end in his cupboard being punished for something, but he wasn't about let on about that. Regardless, it seemed to catch the shopkeeper's attention. The little old man bounced over to a section up against the far wall and started going over various types of special quills he could use.

By the time they left, Harry's head was spinning with all the things the excitable old man had been telling him. He also had at least three different quills that could draw in colors, and two that could correct misspelled words.

After that was another supply shop, this one for the more mundane (in Hagrid's opinion) things such as parchment and inks. Here the oversized man insisted on getting Harry a sketchpad to go along with the drawing quills. He refused to so much as read a word of Harry's protests. And as much as he protested, Harry couldn't hide how much he liked it. Finally they had only one stop left.

"Robes is all we still need." He led Harry towards another shop, this one flanked by mannequins.  "Madame Malkin's robes for all occasions." Hagrid said, though Harry thought this was a bit unnecessary, since there was a sign saying exactly this just over the entrance to the shop. He supposed Hagrid had just wanted to be grand. The oversized man stopped at the door and rubbed his head, looking a little sheepish. "You'll have ter go in alone. I won't fit." It was true. The door was simply too small to accommodate him. Hagrid frowned slightly at Harry's raised eyebrow. "As a rule you don't do magic that affects someone else's property without permission, and most o' the shops have spells set to prevent it anyway." Harry nodded and walked in alone.

The first people he saw were a man and a boy. He would have thought they were father and son, if it weren't for the fact that they looked as different as night and day. Almost literally. The man was tall, skinny, and dressed almost entirely in black. He was also wearing a rather flowing black cloak. Even his hair was black. He was also rather sallow skinned, and had a rather large, slightly hooked nose. In all he looked very much to Harry like a bat in human form.

The boy on the other hand, had rather pale skin, and an aristocratic face. His clothing was much more colorful than the man's, a deep green, and looked much more expensive. His hair was perhaps the biggest difference though. It was a brilliant shade of platinum blonde that bordered on unnatural, and Harry could have sworn it shone when the sunlight hit it. The boy was turning his head from side to side, and had an expression that he probably thought made him look superior. Harry thought privately that it just made his features look  pinched.

The boy spotted him first. He peered at Harry as he turned to look at a selection of cloaks. Then in a rather loud, carrying whisper he said, "I say. That one looks like some little lost orphan child or something, doesn't he uncle Sev?" Harry went ramrod straight even as the man turned and gave his back a quick glance.

"Draco, mind your manners." Draco frowned.

"But he does!" He yelped slightly when the man pinched his ear.

"Then say it quietly. What would your mother say, after all her lessons in decorum?" Draco was spared from having to answer by a motherly looking woman who swept out from behind him.

"She'd give him the scolding of his life Severus Snape, and you too! Talking like that, honestly!" She shoved the dour looking man into a nearby chair. "There! Stay in that seat and stop looming about, you've been scaring my customers." If the look Snape gave her was anything to go by, Harry thought she was very brave indeed. She bustled over to Harry. "Here for Hogwarts robes dear?"

Harry nodded. The woman, whom he quickly found out was Madame Malkin herself, pulled her wand out of her sleeve and flicked it towards the pale boy. A stepstool instantly appeared next to him. "Up you get dear." Harry got on the stool. Almost before he finished straightening up, his vision was obscured by something thin and long. When Madame Malkin shooed it back, he saw that it was a tape measure. She whipped out a quill, ink, and parchment. Another flick of her wand set them floating. She raised her wand straight up. "Ready…go!" On the word "Go", she brought the wand swishing down, rather like a flagman at a race.

This was apparently the cue for the tape measure. It shot into motion at once. For a few confusing seconds it flitted around his head, tightening and loosening before zipping off to new point.   Finally it measured his neck, an action that made Harry more than a little nervous. After this it moved on to his arms, and he was able to get his bearings back.

The first thing he noticed was that the boy, Draco, he remembered, looked like he very much wanted to laugh at him, but didn't want to look silly doing it. The man, Snape, Professor Snape, he realized suddenly, had pulled a magazine from out of somewhere and was reading it, looking slightly bored. Madame Malkin seemed to have vanished into the back half of the shop. The boy spoke to him suddenly, jerking him out of his observations.

"It's just measuring you. Haven't you ever been fitted for robes before?" Harry shook his head. Draco's eyes widened. "And you're how old?!" The tape measure stopped its work on Harry's wrists long enough to give him a stinging slap on the nose. Apparently Madame Malkin's attitude towards behavior extended to her tools. Draco rubbed his nose as the tape measure resumed its work.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He said it with obvious pride. Harry heard a soft snort come from the direction of Professor Snape. When his pronouncement failed to produce anything more than a blink from Harry however, Draco seemed to deflate slightly. He frowned. "Don't you know who my parents are?" His frown increased when Harry shook his head again. Then he squinted at him. "What's your surname?"

Before Harry could even begin to think about a way to answer, Professor Snape spoke up. "Draco, it's quite obvious he's a muggleborn. I fail to see how his surname should interest you. Your father made it quite clear you should not associate with his type unless necessary." The sneer on his face was mimicked in his voice. Catching the implied insult, Harry turned and glared at him. Fortunately, Madame Malkin returned just then, carrying several bolts of fabric. She let them go and waved her wand idly, making them shoot up into the air, narrowly missing Snape's head. Madame Malkin hid a smile.

Snape however, appeared not to notice. He was staring straight into Harry's eyes, never once breaking eye contact. The dark obsidian gaze was very unnerving. He felt like sighing in relief when Madame Malkin moved in between them. She expertly caught the tape measure as it flitted aimlessly around Harry's body. She flicked it at the quill, which instantly shot into motion, scribbling down numbers at lightning speed.

"Let's see now." She leaned over to look at the measurements. "My goodness but you're small!" She frowned. "I don't think any of my regular school robes will fit you dear. I simply can't make them that small. They wouldn't hold together, not with all the spells you'll be doing over the year." She pursed her lips when Harry frowned. "Not to worry dear, I'll think of something." After a few minutes of thought her face lit up. "I've got it!" Her sudden exclamation made both Harry and Draco jump. She waved her wand at the bolts of fabric behind her. They shot off into the back of the shop, a different set appearing seconds later. This group looked to be much lighter. Madame Malkin confirmed this.

"It's a lighter fabric dear." She frowned again. "I can't make regular school robes out of this since the material can't handle that kind of needlework, but I can make a different style of them." She frowned and rummaged in a nearby drawer for a moment before taking out a rolled up piece of parchment. She unfurled it and held it out for him to see. "The style's a bit outdated, but once in a great while I get a student who wants to wear them, so you wouldn't be the first." Draco spoke before Harry could do anything.

"A bit outdated? They're positively archaic!" Harry had to admit that he did have a point. The outfit itself looked like a schoolboy's version of what Professor Ambervale had been wearing. The main difference was that it had a higher neckline and looked much more ornate in terms of embroidery. Harry suspected that Ambervale's looked so different because what he lacked in design, he seemed to make up for in sheer color. Still though, as a whole it could have looked a lot worse. He nodded to the seamstress. Draco stared at him.

"You're not serious?!" Madame Malkin turned to him.

"Well it's his choice Mister Malfoy. She paused as a slip of parchment zipped up to her. "Ah. Your robes are nearly ready. Just a few left Mister Malfoy." She pointed her wand at the bolts of fabric. Several different shades of black unwound from them. Another wave of her wand had a needle and a spool of thread at attention. Madame Malkin rolled up her sleeves. Then with a look of intense concentration, she began the work transforming them into a set of robes.

Throughout this, Professor Snape had remained more or less at the back of Harry's mind. When Madame Malkin moved out of the way and he was still staring at him, Harry began to get more than a little nervous. He wasn't given much time to dwell on it though. In practically no time, Madame Malkin was presenting him with a finished outfit. It bore a very strong resemblance to Ambervale's clothing indeed, though it wasn't anywhere near as bright. "Let's see how this fits dear."

She waved her wand at him. There was a very disorienting swirl of fabric, and suddenly she was holding his shirt and trousers and the robe was on him. She stepped back and eyed him critically. "I think the shoulders are a little too loose." A wave of her wand had the area in question changing slightly. "Now then, the sleeves are a bit long too. You don't want them to get in the way when you're casting spells or working on something delicate." Another wave of her wand had a small amount of fabric falling off the cuff like a potato peel. They almost, but not quite managed to cover the tips of his fingers. "There we go. You can tie the sleeves back if you need them to go back any farther. Anything else, I wonder?" Draco spoke suddenly.

"They need to be lighter colored. They make his eyes and skin stand out too much." He caught Harry eyeing him. "What? If you're determined to wear them, I have to do something to lessen the damage. Right now you look like you stepped out of an ink drawing."

"He does at that." Madame Malkin said amiably. She waved her wand again and the outfit lightened to a shade that was a dark enough gray to pass as black. The swirling embroidery running up the front from his waist remained jet black however. She nodded decisively. "There, that should do it." She jabbed her wand towards the back of the shop. There was a sudden flurry of activity as the bolts of fabric shot off. "Those shouldn't take long." She started browsing through bolts of fabric on the wall.

"Patterns won't do for you. Definitely solid colors only." She turned and eyed him critically for a moment. "Blue certainly. Green if it's the right shade…" She trailed off and eyed a swatch that was almost jade. After a moment she shook her head and put it back. "Much too dark. Emerald or bottle green most likely. Red and gold should be fine. White of course, and black sparingly…" She trailed off again, muttering to herself more quietly. By now all three of her customers were giving her their undivided attention. Finally, Draco seemed to be unable to hold himself back anymore.

"What are you on about?" Madame Malkin looked up from a wall of light gray fabrics.

"Oh he's getting a complete wardrobe dear." She leaned down to a surprised Harry and whispered, "I've had a letter about you. From someone by the name of Pamela. Says you're to get a complete wardrobe along with your robes. And she's paying for it. Says it's a birthday present." She straightened up and said more loudly, "So you're not to pay a cent for any of it my dear!" At this moment a wrapped package zoomed up to her and she grabbed it expertly out of the air. "Ah. Here are your robes Mister Malfoy. That'll be eighteen galleons and four sickles all told." Professor Snape rose and rather jerkily counted it out before passing the money off to the seamstress. Then after Draco collected his robes and left, he swept out of the shop, looking more bat like than ever. He gave Harry a baleful glare as the door slammed shut behind him.

Madame Malkin huffed. "Abominable man! How he got his position I shall never know." She turned to Harry. "Well, whatever. Let's get you squared away my dear." As she wandered about, picking up fabric swatches and holding them against his skin, Harry was left to ponder the revelation that Pamela clearly knew about the world of magic, and obviously hadn't forgotten his birthday. (And didn't that give him a funny feeling, even if it was good.) The biggest thing he was wondering at that moment however, was the question of just what he had done to make the surly looking professor so angry with him.