Chapter Text
The bell above Madam Malkin's door chimed pleasantly as Harry stepped inside, Hagrid's reassuring presence gone, as the large man had gone off to settle himself after the exhilarating ride to the vaults and back.
The goblin had said one speed only, but Harry was positive they went faster on the way back up.
The shop was quiet- no other customers in sight- and a plump witch with a kind face bustled forward immediately.
"Hogwarts, dear? You’re a bit late for it- the rush was last week, but you look about the right age..." she asked warmly, and at Harry's nod, she gestured him toward a stool. "Right then, up you pop."
As she began taking his measurements with her enchanted tape measure, Harry found himself relaxing slightly. The tape flitted about on its own, and Madam Malkin hummed under her breath as she jotted down numbers.
"Excuse me," Harry ventured, watching the measuring tape loop around his waist. "Do we wear the uniforms all term? Should I be getting any other clothes?"
"Oh, good thinking!" Madam Malkin smiled at him approvingly. "Smart boy. No, the uniform is for classes and formal school events, but you'll want casual clothes for weekends- Hogsmeade visits in your third year and such- and definitely something warm for winter. The castle can be drafty, especially if you end up in the dungeons." She winked. "Slytherin or Hufflepuff, I mean."
Harry blinked. He wasn’t sure what those were.
Madam Malkin's eyes drifted to his oversized, threadbare clothes- Dudley's cast-offs, several sizes too large and worn nearly through at the elbows. Her expression softened with sympathy, though her voice remained matter-of-fact.
"What you already own should be fine, dear, even if you don't have any wizarding clothes, although-" She wrinkled her nose delicately. "Maybe something nicer than those. They look fine for a detention cleaning cauldrons, but you'll want something a mite less... threadbare. It's a bit nippy up in Scotland. If money's a problem, we have a gently used section- might save you a few Knuts?"
Harry felt his face flush hot, but there was no mockery in her tone. Just practical concern. He glanced around the still empty shop.
"I... I have some money," Harry said quietly, thinking of the mountain of gold in his vault. He still couldn't quite believe it was his. "The gently used section sounds good, though. No point wasting it."
Madam Malkin's smile widened. "Sensible and smart. You'll do well at Hogwarts, mark my words. Now, let's see what we can find for you..."
She disappeared into the back and returned with an armful of robes. "These are from students who outgrew them- all in perfect condition. This dark green would look lovely on you, bring out your eyes. And this grey wool cloak is practically new, barely worn. Kid made a last minute switch to Durmstrang instead, if you can imagine, after his parents already bought half his wardrobe."
Harry touched the fabric hesitantly. It was soft, well-made, nothing like Dudley's cast-offs. The price Madam Malkin quoted was reasonable- far less than he'd feared- and within minutes he had a small collection- a couple of pairs of weekend robes, in dark green and charcoal grey. A proper winter cloak with a warm lining, and a casual set in deep blue.
"And these," Madam Malkin added, pulling out some softer garments that could pass as Muggle clothes. "You'll want something comfortable for lounging in the common room or studying. Not everyone wants to be in robes all the time." She showed him a deep emerald green shirt with a charcoal grey vest, some neutral-colored trousers, and a nice cream sweater that looked incredibly cozy.
Harry ran his hand over the cream sweater. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched. "These too," he said quietly.
"There now," Madam Malkin said with satisfaction, parceling everything up. "You'll be the best-dressed first-year in your dormitory, I'll wager. And these colors-" she tapped the package, "-they'll suit any house, but they'll look particularly fine if you end up in Slytherin."
"Slytherin?" Harry asked, the unfamiliar word catching his attention.
"One of the four houses. You'll learn all about them soon enough." Madam Malkin paused, seeming to consider her words carefully. "There's a short primer in the bookshop if you must, but I must warn you- a lot of tosh is said about all the houses. Best to go in with your head on straight and only thinking about what's best for you."
She handed him his packages with a warm smile. "Good luck, dear. I expect great things from you, and that will be sixteen sickles and twelve knuts.”
As Harry left the shop, wearing the soft cream sweater, his arms full of new clothes that actually fit even if some of them were someone else's first, he felt something unfamiliar blooming in his chest. It took him a moment to recognize it. Hope.
Flourish and Blotts was overwhelming in the best possible way. Harry had never seen so many books in one place, their spines gleaming with gilt letters, some of them actually moving on the shelves. The smell of old parchment and leather filled the air.
Hagrid helped him gather his required textbooks, checking each one off the list. But Harry's attention kept wandering to other sections of the shop. One book in particular caught his eye.
101 Curses for Enemies.
Harry picked it up, flipping through pages that showed various unpleasant hexes and their effects. Maybe he could scare Dudley with it. The thought was deeply satisfying.
"Harry, no," Hagrid said firmly, plucking the book from his hands. "It ain't on the list. Asides, you couldn't pull any of that off a'fore your first year, and yeh won't be able to cast it after that without being expelled. Best not to tempt it."
Harry deflated slightly but nodded. Hagrid was probably right.
But then he remembered what Madam Malkin had said about the houses, and he started scanning the shelves more carefully. There, in a mostly ignored corner with a small placard reading "Muggle-born Resources," he found what he was looking for.
Hogwarts Houses: A Student's Guide.
Harry grabbed it immediately, then noticed the other books in the section.
Magic for Muggle-Borns: What You Need to Know
Wizarding Culture and Customs
A History of Magic: The Basics
And
Hogwarts: A History
He doubted he would have even noticed this little section if he wasn't specifically on the lookout for that primer.
"Hagrid, I want these too," Harry said, bringing the small stack over.
Hagrid looked at the titles and his expression softened. "Yer a smart one, Harry. Always good ter learn. These'll help yeh, 'specially that customs one. Lots of little things nobody thinks ter explain."
Harry handed over the three galleons for his books, and clutched the primer. It was small enough he could probably sneak it past his Aunt and Uncle. And he thought he might be able to get the broken flashlight Dudley had used once before smashing the lens to work. It was in the spare bedroom Harry now called his own...
Yes, if he could get away with it, he’d read that tonight. He wanted to know what he was walking into- and more importantly, he wanted to make up his own mind about it.
The ice cream parlor was a cheerful riot of color, with dozens of flavors displayed in gleaming tubs behind a long counter. Hagrid steered Harry to a small table near the window. “Don’t want to sit outside- not while yer alone, Harry.” Harry wanted to protest that he wasn’t alone- Hagrid was here- but Hagrid’s slightly harried look stopped him.
The large man fussed for a few minutes, looking around and seeming to come to a decision.
"Listen, Harry," Hagrid said, his voice low and serious. "I know a place that'll save yeh a few Sickles on yer potion ingredients, but it's not safe fer you there. Not yet, anyway." He glanced around as if checking for eavesdroppers. "I'm gonna have a word with Florean here- he'll keep an eye on yeh while I nip over an' get 'em, alright? You listen to what he says, you hear?"
Before Harry could ask what made a shop unsafe, Hagrid was already lumbering toward the counter. Harry watched as the large man bent to speak quietly with a cheerful-looking wizard in pristine white robes. The man - Florean, apparently - glanced over at Harry with kind eyes, nodded, and followed Hagrid back to the table.
"Not to worry, Hagrid," Florean said warmly. "I'll take good care of him. Harry, is it? What can I get you while you wait? First cone's on the house for Hogwarts students."
Harry blinked. "Really?"
"Course! Been doing it for years. Consider it an investment in your education - can't learn properly on an empty stomach, can you?" Florean's eyes twinkled. "What'll it be? I've got everything from standard vanilla to Butterbeer to Fizzing Whizbee Swirl. Even got a tub of Bertie Bott's for the adventurous"
"Um, what's Butterbeer?" Harry asked hesitantly, latching on to the first unfamiliar name.
"Oh, you're in for a treat then! Be right back."
Hagrid gave Harry's shoulder an awkward pat. "Won't be long, Harry. Half hour at most. You stay put, yeah?"
As Hagrid ducked out of the shop- having to turn sideways to fit through the door- Harry pulled out the cultural primer from his bag. He was still interested in the houses, but that wasn’t important yet- he still had a month before he had to pick a house, or whatever happened. This just might be important today.
Florean returned with a generous cone of pale golden ice cream. "There you are. Mind if I ask what you're reading? Don't often see students with that one."
Harry looked up, slightly embarrassed. "It's about wizarding customs. I'm... I'm Muggle... raised?” He guessed at the terminology. “I don't really know anything about all this yet."
"Smart lad!" Florean said approvingly, pulling up a chair. "Mind if I sit? Slow afternoon, and I do enjoy helping new students. That primer's good, but a bit dry if you ask me. Anything confusing you so far?"
Harry hesitated, then decided to trust the friendly wizard. "Well, I just read about expanded storage spaces- like trunks that are bigger on the inside? Is that actually real?"
"Oh yes, very real! Extension Charms, they're called. Quite common on trunks, bags, even some rooms. Bit of advanced magic, mind you, but any decent trunk shop will have some available. Planning to get one?"
"I was thinking about it," Harry said carefully. "I'll need to keep all my school things somewhere, and..." He trailed off, not wanting to explain about the Dursleys.
Florean's expression softened, as if he'd heard what Harry hadn't said. "Well, if you're looking for a good trunk, I'd suggest getting one with at least one expanded compartment. Doesn't have to be fancy- a simple two-compartment model works well for most students. One regular section for your daily things, one expanded for storage. Some of them come with locking charms too."
"Locking charms?" Harry's interest sharpened.
"Password-protected, usually. Keeps siblings from nicking your Chocolate Frogs, that sort of thing." Florean winked. "Though I expect your Head of House will want the password too- standard procedure at Hogwarts. They need to be able to check for contraband in emergencies."
Harry frowned slightly. "Contraband? Like what?"
"Oh, the usual- cursed objects, anything from Knockturn Alley, Dark Arts books beyond your year level, certain joke items from Zonko's that've been banned after particularly messy incidents..." Florean chuckled. "Don't worry, they don't go rifling through your things for fun. It's mainly if there's been a problem or a safety concern."
Harry nodded slowly, filing away the mention of Knockturn Alley- that must be where Hagrid had gone. "So they can open any trunk at the school?"
"If there is a need, yes. But honestly, Harry, the teachers have better things to do than poke through students' socks. It's really just about keeping everyone safe." Florean paused. "Though between you and me, a trunk with a good lock is still worth having. Keeps things private from your fellow students, at least."
That decided it for Harry. If he had to give the password to his Head of House, fine- but at least his dormitory mates wouldn't be able to get into his things. And more importantly, when he went back to the Dursleys, he could lock everything away safely.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly. "That helps a lot."
"Anytime, lad. Now eat your ice cream before it melts - and if you have any other questions about that primer, I'm here most days."
Harry took a bite of the ice cream and his eyes widened. It tasted like butterscotch and caramel and something warm and comforting he couldn't quite name. It was possibly the best thing he'd ever eaten.
How does something so cold taste so warm?!
Florean laughed at his expression. "Good, isn't it? Welcome to the wizarding world, Harry."
By the time Hagrid returned, laden with packages and slightly dusty, Harry had finished both his ice cream and three more chapters of the primer. He'd learned about proper introductions, the difference between hexes and jinxes, and why you should never accept food from a stranger- apparently some wizards thought it was funny to slip foreign objects into drinks, especially.
"Right then!" Hagrid said cheerfully. "Got yer ingredients, and saved eight Sickles doing it too. Now we just need ter get yeh a trunk an' a wand, and we'll be all set."
"Actually, Hagrid," Harry said, standing up and tucking the primer away in his growing pile of supplies. "About the trunk- I was reading about extension charms? I think I'd like to get one with expanded storage. And a password lock."
Hagrid blinked. "Well, that'll cost a bit more, Harry..."
"I know," Harry said firmly. "But I'll have to keep all my things in there. My relatives won't like me leaving anything out where they can see it, and honestly..." He met Hagrid's eyes steadily. "You saw how my cousin took my cake. Probably for the best if he can't get into my trunk either."
Hagrid's face darkened at the mention of the Dursleys, but after a moment he nodded gruffly. "Aye, I suppose yer right. But we'll still go fer one on the cheaper side, yeah? No need fer them fancy multi-compartment trunks as a first year. A simple two-part with a lock'll do yeh fine."
"That's perfect," Harry said.
"An' yeh'll be givin' yer Head of House the password," Hagrid added firmly. "Gots to be able to check fer contraband in case of emergency. School rules."
"Florean already told me," Harry said. "That's fine."
Hagrid looked relieved that Harry wasn't going to argue about it. "Right then. Off ter the trunk shop, an' then Ollivanders fer yer wand. That'll be the excitin' bit, just you wait!"
As they left the ice cream parlor- Harry waving goodbye to Florean, who waved back cheerfully- Harry felt more confident than he had all day.
The trunk shop was crammed floor to ceiling with luggage of every conceivable size and style. Standard black school trunks were stacked near the entrance, their brass fittings gleaming dully in the afternoon light.
The shopkeeper, a thin wizard with sharp eyes and an even sharper smile, looked up from his counter. "Hogwarts student? Standard issue is right here- sturdy, reliable, four Galleons even."
"Actually," Harry started, "I was hoping for something with-"
"Ah! A discerning customer!" The shopkeeper's smile widened predatorily. "You'll want something special then. Multi-compartment, of course. Now, I have just the thing-" He gestured dramatically toward an ornate trunk that looked like it belonged in a palace. "Only five hundred Galleons! Sixteen compartments with a different lock on each one! Featherlight charm AND auto-shrinking for easy transport!"
Hagrid snorted. "Highway robbery, that. Ain't worth more than maybe a hundred, but he don't need all that. Go on, Harry, speak up."
"I just need-"
"An eleven-compartment trunk with a specialized section for Quidditch supplies?" The shopkeeper barreled on, his eyes gleaming. "You look the Quidditch-mad type! Only a hundred and five Galleons, though for a hundred and fifteen I'll throw in an old broom and a practice Quidditch set!"
Hagrid muttered darkly, "Absolute nonsense. First years aren't even allowed brooms."
"Sir, I just-"
"Oh, you're the potions type then!" The shopkeeper's gaze fixed on Harry's taped glasses. "I can see the bookish look with those specs- been picked on, have you lad? Might want to get a new pair while you're here. But let's focus on the trunk- I've got the perfect solution! The pop-up potions trunk! Comes with built-in cauldron storage and ventilation charms-"
"Stop." Hagrid finally stepped forward, his bulk suddenly seeming much more imposing. "Lad just needs a two-compartment with the standard lock. Don't need all that extra hogwash as a first year. 'Sides, pop-up trunks are banned at Hogwarts- have been fer two decades since a certain lad thought it'd be a lark to brew in the dorms and nearly blew up Gryffindor Tower."
The shopkeeper's smile didn't falter, but it became considerably less enthusiastic. "Of course, of course. Simply trying to ensure the young man has everything he needs. A two-compartment with a standard password lock..." He moved to a different section and pulled down a plain but sturdy-looking trunk. "This one will do nicely. Expanded lower compartment, regular upper section, password-protected locking charm. Fifteen Galleons."
Harry ran his hand over the dark wood. It was well-made, if plain, and the lock mechanism looked solid. "Can I set my own password?"
"Naturally. You’ll need to press your wand here,” he pointed to the Hogwarts crest. “You’ll say the prior password and then then whatever you want your new password to be. Careful though, the password sets when you remove your wand. The current password is written on a bit of parchment on the bottom."
"I'll take it," Harry said.
As Hagrid counted out the Galleons- still grumbling about overpriced nonsense- the shopkeeper showed Harry the bit of parchment at the bottom. “Mind, you don’t need a wand to open it- just saying the password near enough will unlock it. Don’t make it ‘open’ or some such nonsense, it’ll let anyone in that way.”
Walking out of the shop with his new trunk loaded up with all his school supplies and shrunk down to pocket-size (a temporary charm, the shopkeeper had explained, that would wear off in a few hours), Harry felt a mix of satisfaction and lingering annoyance at the pushiness.
"Don't let 'em get to yeh," Hagrid said, as if reading his thoughts. "Some shopkeepers, they see a young'un with Gringotts gold an' think they can take advantage. Yeh did good, standin' firm on what yeh needed."
Harry nodded, tucking the miniaturized trunk carefully into his pocket next to his bag of gold. "Thanks for stepping in."
"'Course, Harry. That's what I'm here for." Hagrid's face brightened. "Now then - time fer the best part. Ollivanders. Let's go get yeh a wand."
Harry wasn't sure what to feel coming out of Ollivanders with his new wand tucked carefully in his sleeve. A pocket for it he’d never have realized was there if it wasn’t for that primer. The wand itself was wonderful. Warmer than butterbeer, more comfortable than his new cream sweater, somehow intrinsically his in a way he'd never known was possible. When he'd held it, red and gold sparks had shot from the tip, and for the first time since learning he was a wizard, magic had felt real in his hands.
But finding out that his wand was brothers with his parents' killer's...
That left a cold, unsettled feeling in his stomach, even as the rest of him felt light and full of possibility.
Ollivander had looked at him with those pale, unblinking eyes and said he expected "great things" from Harry. Somehow, those expectations felt different than Madam Malkin's warm encouragement. Heavier. More ominous. Like greatness wasn't necessarily a good thing.
"An' here's yer birthday present, Harry," Hagrid said, his voice pulling Harry from his thoughts. They'd stopped in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium, and Hagrid was beaming at him. "Can't have yeh sendin' letters by Muggle post, can we? Go on, pick one out."
Inside, dozens of owls rustled and hooted from their perches. Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to a beautiful snowy owl in the corner. She looked at him with amber eyes that seemed almost knowing, and when he approached, she clicked her beak softly and held out her leg for him to stroke.
"That one likes yeh," Hagrid said warmly. "She's a beauty, too. Snowy owls are right loyal."
As Hagrid paid for the owl and her cage, Harry let her out carefully, watching the owl use his shoulder as a perch. He knew thanks to the primer that she’d not fly away. If he was lucky, she might even become a familiar.
A birthday gift and a friend, all in one.
He resolved, even as they finally headed back toward Muggle London and he told her to fly herself to the Dursley’s, that he'd do his best to be great- whatever that meant- but more importantly...
To be good.