Author's Note: If it's not obvious; I don't own Harry Potter. I'm just messing 'round with J.K. Rowling's world.

Chapter One

Goblins, Ferrets and the Wandmaker

July 31st, 1991

-Hagrid tapped the wall three times with his flowery pink umbrella. The bricks Hagrid touched shook- wriggled - then the wall started to rearrange itself and fifteen seconds later, where there was once only a wall; now there was an open archway leading to a narrow street crammed and lined with little shops, stands, and stalls. She could smell roasting chestnuts on the wind.

"Welcome, Hari," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley!"

He grinned at Hari's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Hari looked quickly over her 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.

She turned her 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, redheaded woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen 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 children of about Hari's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Hari heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —"

There were shops selling all manner of things that would never be welcome on Privet Drive.

There were shops selling robes and cloaks, shops selling magical eyewear, shops selling weapons and armour made from hide Hari had never seen before, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments, a sign posted to window said to be Secrecy Sensors (Always Know Who's Lying To You! Detect Trickery Anywhere!), 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…

Hari overheard a conversation between to crimson robed men, the badges on their chests proclaiming them to be Aurors. (Magical peace-keepers, not that Hari knew that.)

"There's rumours that the goblins of South America will rebel soon if the new taxes on acromantula silk aren't lifted," the first Auror said gravely.

The second Auror replied, "and they'll get what they want, their Ministry isn't prepa"-

-"Gringotts." Said Hagrid, effectively distracting Hari from her eaves-dropping.

They had reached a snowy white building made of marble that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was what Hari thought could only be a goblin.

They walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Hari. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Hari 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.

Hari gulped at the not-so-subtle warning.

"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 Hari made for the counter.

"Good morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin teller. "We've come ter take some money outta Ms. Harriet Potter's safe."

Hari scoweld at the use of her full first name.

"You have her 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. Hari 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 You-Know-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 Hari followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Hari 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. Hari, 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 rather reluctantly — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hari 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.

Hari's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she 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," Hari 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 used Hari's key to unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hari gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," said Hagrid, smiling at her reaction.

An astonished Hari turned to the goblin that was waiting for them to finish their business.

"H-how much is that? I'll need a bank statement." breathed out Hari.

The goblin - Griphook- looked bored and sighed.

"A statement of your Trust Vault will be given to you after you're your done here."

"Trust Vault? You mean I have more than one vault?"

Again Griphook sighed and answered in a monotone voice.

"An old famliy like the Potters has a Family Vault that you won't have access to until you're fifteen years old. this is for your use until then." He closed his eyes and took a calming breath so he didn't eviscerate Hari for not knowing something so basic.

Hari thanked Griphook for answering her questions and walked back to Hagrid who was looking nervous at the interaction. When she reached him he bent down and whispered.

"You wan' ter be careful." Hagrid eyed the goblin, "goblins aren't friendly, and they don't like to answer questions."

Hari nodded and Hagrid brightened. He stood up and turned to the piles of money.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. He helped her fill a medium sized sack. 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," he grinned viciously.

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 Hari leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back by the collar of her shirt.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long clawed 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?" Hari asked.

A second later she wished she hadn't asked.

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

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Hari was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels and other treasures at the very least.

— but at first she thought it was empty. Then she 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. Hari 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 in the grand foyer of the bank Hagrid leaned against the gleaming marble wall trying to steady himself while Hari followed Griphook to a teller and watched as they conversed in a strange garbled language. The goblin teller turned to Hari and said

"We'll need your key if you want a statement." He had an impatient air about him while Hari dug in her trouser pocket for the little golden key. She handed her key to the huffy goblin, he held his clawed hand over it he then muttered something in the same language she heard the two goblins talking in earlier. A moment later a piece of parchment and her key were handed to her.

"That statement also includes whats in your Family Vault," growled the goblin.

"Is there a way to spend wizard money in the muggle world? and how would I do that?" Asked Hari, rather bravely, risking two more question for the temperamental teller.

Both goblins left eye twitched in a creepy unison...

"Yes, Galleon Exchange is handled over there," he said stiffly pointing at the other side of the hall, his hand shaking as though he longed to put it on her neck and squeeze.

Hari looked in the direction the goblin was pointing and saw the desks over there were the same as the one she now stood in front of and she rather thought that the goblin was trying to get rid of her.

"Thank you, for all your help," said Hari who then turned away and walked back to Hagrid, not noticing the two goblins cringe at her manners.

When Hari and Hagrid exited the building she looked over at her bank statement and thought:

"My Great-great-great grand kids could live off the intrest this must generate in a year."

Hari didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd had in her 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, Hari, 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 green, so Hari nodded her consent and entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

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

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Hari started to speak. "Let me finish this young man and I'll get you squared away."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face that wildly reminded Hari of a ferret was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hari on a stool next to her slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length. Hari looked at the skirts she had piled next to her with distaste and asked quietly.

"Is it against school rules for girls to wear trousers?"

She gave Hari an odd look but answered in an equally soft voice.

"It's unorthodox but there's no rule against it."

"Can you get me fitted trousers as well as skirts?" Whispered Hari.

"Yes I can dearie," the seamstress smiled.

Hari smiled back and thanked her, then she turned back to the other boy being fitted. he hurredly turned away, trying to look as though he was't trying to spy on a private conversation.

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

"Yes," said Hari.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy.

He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Hari was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Hari.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Hari 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 Hari, 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 Hari, wishing she 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 Hari and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Hari, 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 Hari. She 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 Hari coldly.

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

"They're dead," said Hari shortly. She 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?" Said the boy accusingly.

"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?"

"Potter, Hari Potter."

The boy's demeanor changed immediately.

"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," said the boy as though this meant was supposed to mean something to hari. Hari inwardly snorted at his name.

"Malfoy- Bad Faith- his last name is French for liar."

Malfoy looked slightly put-out that Hari didn't have a visible reaction to his name.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Hari's. Hari didn't take it, thinking on how rude he's been to just about everyone, including herself, and Hagrid, one of the only adults who have ever treated her kindly.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," she said coolly

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. He didn't get a chance to retort because they were interupted by Madam Malkin.

"That's you done, my dear," and Hari, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

Hari was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Hari lied.

They stopped to buy parchment and quills (something Hari couldn't understand). Hari cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. When they had left the shop, she said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

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

"Don't make me feel worse," groaned Hari. She told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's. and there confrontation at the end.

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

"Yer not from a muggle family. Yer mum and dad were two o' the best witches and wizards I've ever known! As fer wantin' ter be yer friend after hearin' yer name, yeh have ter understand that that's goin' ter happen with a family hist'ry like yours. He's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. Yeh saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they firs' saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

Hari would think more on that later and decided to change the subject.

"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 Hari 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."

"Voldemort was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago and don't say the name..." said hagrid looking pale and uncomfortable.

After finishing their ice cream they entered a narrow but tall shop called Florish 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 that Hari learned were called runes and a few books with nothing in them at all. Hari bought all her school books including extras she felt she needed to know and things that simply caught her eye like:

Common Curses and Countercurses.

So, Magic is Real: A Muggleborn's guide to the Wizarding World's Common Customs and Economy made Simple.

Healing Minor Wounds.

Customs of the Old Families.

The Magical Arts: and an Introduction to Each Branch.

The Mind Arts: Magic you Can Do Without a Wand.

Wand Lore: What your Wand Says About You!

The Magical Practitioners Pocket Handbook.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard: Translated and Transcribed From the Original Runes, By Professor Bathsheba Babbling.

She also bought a blank journal bound in soft purple leather that she had had her name embossed on in gold lettering.

Hagrid, noticing it was getting late, practically had to pull her from the shop.

"C'mon, there's still lots teh do before we get yeh home."

Hagrid wouldn't let Hari 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 very strange and smelled horrible, 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 Hari, Hari herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

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

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

Hari felt herself 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. Hari now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.

"T-t-thank you Hagrid," stammered Hari with misty eyes, she then gave Hagrid the first hug she had ever given anybody.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly, patting Hari on the back. "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 Hari had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was as narrow as Florish and Blotts and three times as 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.

The sound of a tinkling bell rang out from somewhere in the back 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. Hari felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she (somehow) swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her, and looked instead, at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the skin on her arms prickled like they were shocked with static electricity.

The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret ambient magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hari jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the -now broken- spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"H-hello," said Hari awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harriet -Hari inwardly scowled at the use of her full first name- 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 Hari. Hari 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 Hari were almost nose to nose. Hari could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Hari's forehead with a cold, 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 Hari'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, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Hari noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now — Ms. 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 left-handed," said Hari.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Hari from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Ms. 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."

Hari suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her 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, Ms. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

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

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

Hari tried — but she 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."

Hari tried. And tried. She 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."

Hari took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers.

She raised the wand above her 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 Hari's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

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

Mr. Ollivander fixed Hari with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Ms. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather resides 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."

Hari swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard or witch, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Ms. Potter…

After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

Hari shivered, more than a little creeped out.

Mr. Olivander dropped his theatrics and was suddenly businesslike as he explained the properties of Hari's wand.

"Holly wood has long been used in fighting evil and repeling darkness, and the phoenix is one of the light's most powerful creatures. It it safe to assume that this wand will lean heavily toward defensive and offensive magic."

Hari paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hari and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, through the archway and into the now empty Leaky Cauldron.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before we get yer home," he said.

He bought a shepards pie from Tom; the Bar Man, and they sat down on wooden seats to split it between them. Hari knew she was being very quiet but she couldn't get what Mr. Olivander had said about hers and Voldemort's wand's out of her head. Not to mention everyone's reaction to her return to the magical world.

Hagrid must have noticed because he asked-

"You all right, Hari? Yer very quiet."

Hari wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the best birthday of her life — and yet — she chewed a bite of potato, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," she 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 or how i survived when Voldemort killed my parents."

Hagrid winced at the name, then leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Hari. 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 looked at the clock on the wall.

"Blimey, it's gettin' late c'mon lets get you home, I'm going to be late for my meeting with Professor Dumbledore,"He absently patted the pocket where the grubby package from Gringotts was.

Hari had a sudden idea.

"Hagrid, I can make my own way to the Dursley's that way you don't have to be late for your meeting," Hari inwardly crossed her fingers.

The emotions were playing out clearly on Hagrid's face. The desire to stay with her until she was 'safely' at the Dursley's was there, but there was also a need to not let Dumbledore down by being late for whatever it was they were meeting for.

Hari decided to give him a push in the right direction.

"Hagrid, the Dursleys let me out on my own all the time. I can easily make my way back," she smiled reassuringly.

That did it because Hagrid's expression quickly cleared.

"All righ'," he pulled a ticket out of his many-pocketed coat and handed it to Hari. "Be at Kings Cross Station September First, the train leaves at eleven o'clock."

He handed Hari the ticket, and she looked down on it. It was a light purple and had golden lettering it read:

LONDON to HOGWARTS

for ONEWAY travel

PLATFORM 9 3/4

SEPTEMBER 1st, 1991

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Hari. Rember, stick to your ticket, thats very important."

There was a sharp CRACKing noise and Hari looked up to tell hagrid good bye, but Hagrid was gone, there was no one in the pub but Hari and the barman, Tom.

She had done it. Hari allowed herself a wide grin. She had no intention of going back to the Dursley's so soon, no, she would rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the last month until school started. She felt bad for tricking her first friend, but there was no way that she was going to spend more time with her magic hating relatives than absolutely nessesary. Hari walked over to the counter that Tom was cleaning and she gently cleared her throat to get the toothless barman's attention.

"Excuse me sir," she put on her best innocent voice.

He looked up.

"What can I do for you lass," he said kindly with a big gummy grin.

Hari smiled brightly at him, for once taking advantage of her small and rather cute stature.

"I would like to rent a room until September First," she clinked a few galleons on the counter.

"Would you really?" He sat back in his seat and drumbed his knotted fingers on the bar.

"Oh yes! It would be really great if no one found out I was here as well," She subtlely slid a few more gold coins on the counter.

Tom grinned scooped the pile of coins up.

"I think I do, follow me Ms. potter," he came went around the bar and up the stairs, Hari silently padding after him. Two flights up there were two hallways going in three different directions: one foreward, one to the Left , and one to the right. He turned the left and led Hari down to the end where the was a portrait of a heavily pregnant young woman on the steps of a cathedral.

"The password is 'Sanctuary' if you want to change it come find me tomorrow," at her questioning look he added, "It takes to long to change and set a password to do it tonight." The young girl nodded her head in understanding.

"I'll have Minnie, a house elf, bring your things to you. If you need to get out of the pub without being seen there's a ladder that takes you down to the arch way to Diagon Alley. if you need to get to muggle london put a cloak on and put the hood up, enter the bar from the back door so no one traces you back to this room. To come back to this room climb the ladder from the alleyway, the window will only open with the password you set the portrait to."

Hari quirked an eyebrow, impressed.

"Something tells me you've done this before."

Tom sighed and nodded

"Sadly, it's nessesary sometimes."

"What do you mean, 'Nessesary'?" Hari questioned curiously.

"Muggleborns running away from parents or relatives who don't understand or fear magic. Girls running away from home and family because they were trying to force them into a marriage they neither wanted nor agreed with, purebloods running off to be with people their family views as," here he snorted, "unworthy of their untainted blood, et cetera. This inn has always been used as a place of sanctuary and rest, you see, there are no churches in the wizarding world. If a magical person is religous they go to a muggle mass or service, but if someone is seeking safety we'd have nowhere to go, that's why this room -and several others- were created."

He patted a gnarled hand on the portrait, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out the money she had given him, he then offered it back to Hari.

"W-w-why, why are you giving it back?" She asked, astonished. This showing of goodwill and humanity was not something she had ever seen growing up at the Dursleys.

Tom smiled.

"It was a test, down there you offered me enough money to easily live here for three months instead of one. It showed me how important this was to you. Now go wash up, your things should be in there already. I'll have Minnie bring you a menu in the morning, goodnight."

Stunned speechless she nodded and shakily gave the password to the portrait which promptly slid to the side revealing a door made of the same stone that the rest of the wall was made of, after opening the door to her new home for the next month, she entered after giving tom a hug goodnight and in thanks.

The room was large, larger than should pe possible, and Hari was positive that magic must've played a part in this. The floors were highly polished and she could see herself in them. There was a large warm, brightly lit, fireplace on the wall opposite the door to the room. Next to the fireplace was the window that led down to the alley, she could tell that was the window she needed because it was the only one in the room. There was a perch next to the window, on which her still-as-of-yet unnamed owl was sleeping with her head curled under her wing. On the left wall was a door that led to a loo that had a bathtub with a shower, a sink, and a toilet. On the other side of the room there was a large four-post bed with blue curtains and a dark purple comforter. At the base of the bed was the new trunk made of polished cherry wood she had bought today, she had had a brass plate attached to the top that had the name: Hari Roslyn Potter, engraved on it. The trunk currently held her school supplies and uniforms and robes, plenty of room for more shopping. There were shelves and bookcases lining the door out of the room and a pair of squashy red armchairs in front of the fire, between which sat a large coffee table.

After stripping out of Dudleys old clothes she realized that she didn't have any other muggle clothing. Putting a trip to muggle london for fitting, -correctly gendered- clothing on the agenda for tomorrow she slid under the comforter and was asleep as soon as her head hit her goose down pillow.

Authors note:

Why turn the goblins so mean?

Why not!

The only reason I can think of that the Goblins have not been put on the Ministries' Dark Creature List is that the members of the Goblin leaders are blackmailing the board members responsible for the list -they're probably bribing or threatening the ones they can't get any dirt on-.

In canon the only time a goblin is trusted to do something important (Griphook and the sword) he betrays them steals the super-awesome-magical-artifact-that-just-so-happens-to-be-one-of-the-few-things-that-has-the-ability-to-destroy-Voldemort's-horcruxes, and left them to die in the tunnels of Gringott's miles below the streets of London.

Even Hagrid says that goblins are tricky and dangerous at the best of times. This coming from a man who keeps a giant three-headed hell hound named fluffy as a pet, raised an acromantula the size of a pickup truck (after finding it a mate and flooding the forest with hundreds of it's murderous, spidery, off-spring), a dragon he tried to raise in his wooden hut. He also bred -and expected his students to raise- Blast-Ended Skrewts, (an illegal crossbreed between Manticores and Fire Crabs) ten foot long, spell resistant, armored plated scorpions that moves via explosive propulsion. The year after that he tried to teach his full-blooded giant brother english (also kept in the forest next to a school filled with hundreds of small children).

*sighs*

I'm sure there is more but I can't think of any right now...

This is the only chapter that takes so heavily from the books. It should be a wild ride from here on out.