Chapter 33

Harry paused. It was, but he had other plans too. With a sheepish smile, he nodded and opened up his inventory in front of himself. Pretending to stumble as he stood up, he fell face first into a pile of galleons and sickles, taking a good portion of it into his inventory.

"Do be careful Mr. Potter." The professor chided as they headed back for another roller coaster ride to the surface.

MONEY- 175£ / 2042G 182S 25K

"Of course Professor," Harry smiled as he read his balance, "Always."

They'd quickly made their way out of the bank and started crossing things off the list diagonally across the Diagon alley, starting at Slug's and Jigger's for the brass scales, crystal phials, and a set of five cauldrons one each of gold, silver, brass, copper, and pewter.

"It is cheaper when bought in a set and you will need the rest in later years as well. Each cauldron has its own uses, Mr. Potter. Pewter is all rounded and for beginners. Brass enhances stability while copper enhances potency. Silver is used as a catalyst for speed. Gold is an important ingredient in some powerful potions and needs to be added too gradually and slowly to add by hand, so every time you stir it, you're eroding a bit of gold off the cauldron and mixing it into the potion. I suspect you won't need the pewter one for long, your mother being as good as she was at potions." McGonagall had said while picking up a package of general ingredients for him. Harry had then and there promised to himself that he would do well in potions.

Upon further questioning, she had told him that she was not very proficient in potions, but a man named Snape, who would be his teacher, was, "You should talk to him sometime Mr. Potter. He was a friend of your mother," she'd said before muttering under her breath, "Lord knows he needs it."

"I'll expect your full attention in all your classes Mr. Potter. I will not have any fooling around in my Transfiguration classes," she'd added a few minutes later while she was strong-arming a green haired shopkeeper called Sean Mcloughlin into giving him a state of the art brass colored Muggle telescope for half the price that it would have cost him in the Muggle world.

Harry couldn't help but be glad to have her with him. McGonagall's many years as a teacher had apparently earned her quite some respect. Prices dropped by the sickles as the woman kept getting recognized by old students, and all the while she kept giving him tidbits of information that greatly help him understand this new world he found himself him. With a sturdy feather light trunk holding his new clothes, books, and purchases, the duo headed towards the highly anticipated wand shop, Harry getting increasingly nervous as they drew closer.

"Calm down Mr. Potter. You're eroding the sidewalk. There is very little that you have to do for the process. It will mostly involve Mr. Ollivander doing most of the work." McGonagall said, sensing Harry's excitement and nervousness.

The shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders': Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. As they entered, a bell tinkled and a man emerged from between the huge shelves that housed thousands and thousands of wands in their boxes. Harry looked around warily as the man put back the wand he was polishing. There was some sort ancient magic in the air, curiously drifting around him, sensing his worth. McGonagall had retreated to a nearby seat and the man had come closer and stood barely a foot away, staring at him with those silver eyes that seemed to shine like brilliant moons in the gloomy shop.

"Mr. Potter," he finally spoke, "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."

Ollivander moved closer to them. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it but it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. He could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where..." Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly, "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted McGonagall. "Minerva! How good to see you again... Fir, nine and a half inches, elegant, refined and very powerful. It has served you well hasn't it?"

"It has," said McGonagall. Ollivander nodded and turned to Harry.

"Well, now - Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er - well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He let the tape measure fly from his hand and start measuring Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As it measured, Ollivander moved back into the shelves he'd emerged from and spoke, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. I prefer unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get good results with another wizard's wand."

Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. "That will do," he said, and the tape measure rolled itself up and flew right back to Ollivander's pocket.

"Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave. "Harry took the wand and, feeling foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once, "Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try it." Harry tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Ollivander.

"No, no -here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, and try it out." Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the single spindly chair in the room.

At around an hour's time, McGonagall grew impatient and spoke up.

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