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Chapter 4: Diagon Alley


Harry woke with a start to someone gently shaking his arm.

"Are you feeling any better?" his aunt asked "You've slept half the day away."

Stretching in the chair, Harry took stock of himself; he did feel better, he realized. After his little fainting spell with Dudley, Harry had felt drained and out of sorts. Now, though still a bit tired, he felt more his normal self. "How's Dudley?" he asked.

"Resting," Petunia said, her voice quavering with emotion. She clasped her nephews hand in a tight grip. "Harry, he's come out of it! My little baby, he's so weak, but that Pomfrey woman said it would only be a matter of time until he gets his strength back. She said she'd be back with medicine to help him."'

"They've gone, haven't they?" Harry asked, feeling keen disappointment that he'd slept through most of his birthday and missed his opportunity to go see a bit of the wizarding world.

"All but the big one," Aunt Petunia replied, firing hope in Harry's chest all over again. "He's fallen asleep on the couch." After hugging his aunt, he left her alone with her son and slipped down the stairs to the parlour. Harry tip-toed into the room, though it was doubtful that a herd of elephants could have wandered through and been heard over the snores of the half-giant. Reaching the couch, Harry hunkered down in front of the sleeping man.

As long as he could remember, curiosity had always his greatest enemy. got the better of him and he reached his hands out to examine the sleeping behemoth before him. Harry ran his fingers over the wiry beard of the man. For a moment, he thought he'd found a small birds nest complete with eggs but he knew that couldn't be right. He traced his hands over the huge man's face, running his fingers along his cheeks, nose, and brow. He liked this man; he somehow seemed familiar and the scent of him was like a forest...and a little bit of alcohol. He was about to continue his investigation when Hagrid suddenly spoke.

"Err...Harry, what are yeh doin?"

The boy jumped back and stuttered, "I...I'm sorry! It's...it's just that...I wanted to know what you looked like. I should have asked."

"Nah," the bearish man said. "S' alright Harry. Not that I'm all that worth looking at." Sitting himself upright on the sofa he said, "Since yer cousin's alright, yeh want te go pick up yer school things?" At the boy's eager yelp, the big man laughed and pulled on his heavy coat.

Harry called up to his Aunt Petunia, telling her they were going. She came down the stairs and pulled the boy into a hug. "Take care, Harry, and have fun." Turning to Hagrid, she said, "You'll have him home by ten o'clock."

With Petunia's blessing, Harry retrieved his collapsible cane, and they were out the door and on their way to Diagon Alley.

Harry extended his cane as they walked down the drive and to the edge of the street. "So how do we get there, Hagrid?" the boy asked.

"Well, the entrance is in downtown London," the half-giant said, "so we'll catch the train."

The two made an odd pair walking through the achingly normal neighbourhood as they made their way towards the train station. Passers-by called out friendly greetings to Harry but stared at his huge companion, who seemed to be amused by the most mundane things such as mailboxes and parking meters.

At last they made it to the train station where Hagrid let Harry buy the tickets, explaining that he didn't understand Muggle money. As they settled into their seats, the boy suddenly thought of something and tugged on the sleeve of the big man's coat.

"Hagrid," he said. "How am I going to pay for my school things? We don't have a lot of money at home and I've got none on me."

"Don't worry yerself about that," said the half-giant. "Yeh don't think James and Lily would leave yeh with nothing, do yeh? We're stopping at Gringotts first thing."

"What's Gringotts?"

"Wizards' bank," said Hagrid, "run by goblins. Safest place in the world if yeh want to keep something safe."

"Goblins?" the boy asked. "Like monsters?"

Hagrid shook his head, forgetting the boy couldn't see the motion. "Goblins are considered dark creatures, like vampires and werewolves...but they're not monsters." Harry sat there for several minutes, wondering exactly what he'd gotten himself into.

The train rolled on and Hagrid was reading a newspaper that must have been magical for Harry could not only see the glowing letters of the writing on the page, but the moving pictures within as well.

"Ministry of Magic messin' things up again," Hagrid mumbled as he read along.

"The what?"

"Ministry of Magic," said the man. "They wanted Dumbledore, the headmaster, to be Minister, but he wouldn't have it. Cornelius Fudge took the job instead. Greatest bungler you'd ever meet. Drives Dumbledore mad with all his owls askin' fer advice." Hagrid folded his paper as the train reached the outskirts of London and pulled an envelope from his pocket.

"Here yeh go Harry, hold on ter that. It's yer list o' school supplies."

The boy took the parchment and unfolded it. There on the paper, in both in glowing written letters he could 'see' and in Braille, was the list of things he would need for school. "Hagrid, there's a lot here. Are you sure I'll have enough money?"

The big man didn't answer, just clapped a great hand on the boy's knee and rested his chin on the handle of the huge umbrella he was carrying. They got off the train at King's Cross Station and navigated their way out onto the street. Harry had not been to London since the accident, and the large crowds were a bit daunting. Hagrid seemed to know where to go, however, and he cut a path through the masses of people with the young boy close behind.

As they walked, Harry wondered where they would find shops that sold wands, cauldrons, or magical broomsticks. He knew he'd never heard anything like that advertised on the box, and for the most part everywhere about him seemed to be filled with the sparks of normal people and things. A few blocks on, Harry noticed that one shop seemed to be much brighter in his mental vision. The sparks on the signboard above it spelled out letters that the boy could read just as Hagrid announced their arrival.

"Here we are; the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place. Stay close teh me, Harry."

Entering the place, Harry found himself torn as to whether or not he liked it. It was small, cosy, and smelled of warm bread and ancient wood. Everything inside was magical, from the bar top to the spittoons, which made it easy to navigate. It was the magical nature of the place, however, that was giving Harry problems. It was so intense that he found himself instinctively squinting against the glare and had to unfocus his inner eye or risk developing a killer headache.

The buzz of conversation stopped as they entered, and then slowly started back up again. Hagrid answered several warm greetings from some of the patrons as he made his way back to the bar and seated himself with Harry standing closely by. Harry heard the man behind the bar come up and ask, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business." The half-giant's hand came down on Harry's shoulder like a fallen log, and the boy was nearly thrown from his feet.

"My word!" said Tom "Is that...? Harry Potter, welcome back...so wonderful to meet¼" The man took in Harry's dark glasses and cane. Turning to the other man he said in a strained whisper, "Hagrid, he's blind?"

Harry grimaced. He'd put up with strangers' pity since he'd lost his sight and it never failed to piss him off when someone would suddenly treat him like an infant or an invalid because he couldn't see.

"Very¼ nice¼ to¼ meet¼ you¼ Harry¼" Tom said very slowly in a loud voice. He was about to remind the barkeep that while he was sightless his ears were working quite well when he was suddenly swamped by the patrons of the bar as they all swarmed about him trying to see, touch, or talk to him. With rising panic, he yelled for Hagrid and was hugely relieved when a giant hand wrapped itself around him and held him close.

"Here now," said the great, gravely voice. "Give the boy some room."

"Is...is ev...everything alright, Hagrid?" a new voice came from off to one side. It's owner sounded as nervous as Harry felt.

"Professor Quirrell," said Hagrid. "Nah, they was just crowdin' the boy a bit. Harry, this is Professor Quirrell; he'll be one of your teachers this year."

"Good to see???err...meet you, Mr. Potter," said the professor. "I t-t-teach Defence A-against the D-dark Arts. B-b-buying your school t-t-things then? I'm here for a book on vampires myself. Well I...I must be off." With that, the nervous man made a quick exit out the back door.

They made to leave but still had the crowd to contend with, even with Hagrid's protective arm around Harry. Finally, after ten minutes of being badgered, they were able to escape through the back door into a small walled-in courtyard.

Harry paused to re-focus his inner eye and get a sense of where they were. Hagrid had led him to a wall where the sparks seemed to swirl inward toward its centre, like water down a drain. The half-giant tapped a few bricks with his umbrella and the swirling sparks opened up like a giant iris to expose a brilliant panorama before him.

The twisting street before him seemed to be made of light. Each shop along the way glowed with its own special hues, and he found he could read all the signs as well. He hoped that he would get used to the harsh glare from all of it, or he'd never be able to function here. As they stood at the entrance, Hagrid ruffled his hair and said, "I know yeh can't see it, Harry, but welcome to Diagon Alley."

They stepped through the archway and the half-giant led him down the street towards the wizard's bank. The sparks outlined everything like some illuminated sketch. Off to one side was a shop selling cauldrons, and on the other was a woman moaning over the price of dragon livers.

Finally they reached Gringotts. Once inside, they stepped up to one of the many counters. The being behind it seemed even shorter than Harry, and the pattern of the sparks was markedly different than that of anyone he had seen so far. What marked the being most in the boy's mind was the scent of the creature, like old musty paper--he didn't know why, but it seemed...right.

"Mornin," said Hagrid to the goblin. "We're here te get some money from Harry Potter's vault."

"And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?'

"Wait," said Hagrid, "got it here somewhere¼ Ah!" After a short stint digging through his pockets, he'd come up with a small golden key. "Here we are¼. I also got a letter from Dumbledore about the you-know-what in vault you-know-where."

The goblin read the note and nodded. "Of course...Griphook!" Another goblin, looking much the same as the first, came up. "Take Mr Hagrid and Mr. Potter to their respective vaults."

Griphook lead them through a door into a rough-hewn, deeply sloping tunnel with tracks affixed to the floor. The goblin whistled and a cart zoomed up the tracks and stopped before them. They all got in and were off. They careened through a maze of tunnels; Harry was whipped back and forth in the cart and was having a grand time. Hagrid on the other hand had turned an alarming shade of green and was making noises that alerted the boy to the fact. His concern grew as he considered the possibilities of a nauseous Hagrid in such a small cart. They rode along with the cold air stinging his cheeks. The boy could have sworn he'd heard a deep-throated roar at one point. Finally they came screeching to a halt before a small door. Hagrid staggered from the cart with the boy jumping out after him. The big man clutched the rock as he waited for his knees to stop shaking and Harry asked, "Are there monsters down here? I heard a roar on the cart."

"A dragon most likely," said Hagrid. "Always wanted one, I did, for a pet."

They both turned as Griphook opened the door and green smoke came billowing out. Whatever was inside wasn't inherently magical and when the boy made his own sparks brighter he got the shadowy impression of a mound of something. Turning to Hagrid the boy asked, "What's in there?"

The large man sucked in a slow breath. "A whole lot of Galleons, Harry."

"What are Galleons?"

"Wizarding money, lad," Hagrid said. Taking the boy's hand he led him into the vault. "Here," he said placing a coin in the boys hand. "This is a gold Galleon. Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine bronze Knuts to a Sickle." He pushed a new coin into the boy's hand as he explained them to give Harry a chance to familiarize himself with the size, shape and heft of each. Puling out a bag he'd brought for this purpose, Hagrid filled it with Galleons and handed it to Harry. "That'll keep yeh for a term or two."

Turning to Griphook, Hagrid said, "Vault seven hundred and thirteen please, and if yeh could go a little slower¼"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

Back in the cart, they went even deeper, to a place where the air became very cold. From the echoes around them, Harry knew that there was a deep ravine below them, but Hagrid refused to let the boy get near the edge of the cart to listen better. Stopping again, they ended up before a door without a keyhole. Getting out with Griphook, Hagrid told Harry to stay put. When the goblin stroked the door it melted away and Harry could sense some kind of strange bundle on the floor. It was extremely bright and the sparks were woven in a design that resembled a sideways figure eight. Hagrid picked up the parcel and put it in his coat, obviously in an attempt to hide it from the boy. Harry fought down the grin because no matter where the half-giant tried to hide it, Harry could still see the brightly glowing spot on his body.

A quick cart ride later and they were back inside the main hall of Gringotts again. Harry didn't know where to start. He knew that in the bag he had more money than he'd seen in his entire life. A sudden idea striking him, he went back to one of the counters and asked the goblin, "Can I get some of the money from my vault changed to regular-I mean Muggle-money?"

The goblin regarded him coolly, "Of course, sir." The boy was asked to show his key again and how much he wanted to exchange.

"I guess one hundred Galleons?"

"Yes sir," said the goblin. "That will be roughly ten thousand British pounds. Will you be taking it now or would you like it sent to your home?"

Harry just stood staring at the creature. Ten thousand pounds? In the time his mouth hung open a colony of flies could have made a comfortable home and raised families. Finally pulling himself together, he asked for it to be sent to 4 Privet Drive in Surrey, in care of his aunt. Finished with his business, and not daring to think just how much money was actually down in that vault, he went school shopping with Hagrid.

"We'll start with your uniform, I guess," said the half-giant. Leading him to the door, he stood at the entryway and said, "Tell yeh what, Harry. I'm gonna let yeh take care of this while I run down to the Leaky Cauldron for a quick pick-me-up. I'm needin' it after that blasted cart."

Inside the shop it was cosy and warm. He could hear the humming of a witch in the other room as she was pinning the robes of another boy about the same size as Harry. As the boy took in the atmosphere, the proprietor came up to him. She was a squat, smiling woman who smelled of spices. With a warm voice she asked, "Hogwarts dear? The lot just came in today." The woman obviously noted the presence of his dark glasses and cane as she suddenly became overly helpful.

Harry hated this with sighted people. Once they realized Harry was blind, they thought of him as helpless. He hadn't thought that of himself since he was four, and when people treated him that way it really pissed him off. Controlling his temper, however, he just smiled to the woman and allowed her to help him onto a footstool by the other boy and stood still as she placed a robe on him and began to pin it for length.

"Hello," said the other boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes." he replied.

"My father's next door buying books and mother is up the street looking at wands. I don't know why; it's not like she can pick mine out...Err...Why the dark glasses? It's already dim enough in here already."

"I hadn't noticed," said the boy as he dropped a broad hint. "I wear them because my eyes make people nervous."

Having had his interest captured, the other boy turned and asked, "Why? Are they like cat eyes? Do they glow red?"

"Not quite," the boy responded as he pulled his glasses off and gazed in the other's direction, pointedly ignoring the sound of the other boy falling off his footstool. "I've been blind since I was four. From what I'm told, most people are a little put-off by how they look."

Harry was used to the uncomfortable stares he received when people saw his eyes and the ensuing silence, as nobody seemed to know how to carry on after that, but he was shocked by this boy's response.

"Wicked," the boy whispered. "I mean, not wicked that you're blind; I mean your eyes...they're cool! So do you know anything about Quidditch?"

The boy shook his head. "My aunt has raised me since I was one and she doesn't like magic. I didn't even know I was a wizard until yesterday."

"Well, anyway, I'm Draco Malfoy," said the other boy. "And you are?"

"All done, dear," said the witch as she pulled the robe off him. He hopped down and made his way to the door.

"I'll see you at school then?" Draco called after him.

"See you then," Harry replied as he went out the door.

The conversation with the boy had made Harry realize one very important thing: he needed to know more about this new world. Since Hagrid was not back yet, he made his way over to Flourish and Blotts. Inside, he went to the counter and explained to the man that he was a first year Hogwarts student and that he'd need versions of the books for the blind.

The man behind the counter smiled genuinely and took the boy by the shoulder. "Come this way, lad." He took him to the shelves and pulled out /Standard Book of Spells Level 1/. "These are magical books, lad." He opened the book in front of the boy and Harry immediately realized he could read the magical script inside, but then the man took his hand and placed it on the page. Over the words he felt bumps appear that were obviously Braille. "These books are meant to teach, boy. If you're French or German the language of the book changes so you can read it, just like it did for you being without sight."

The boy grinned with the possibilities. The numbers of books around him was enormous, and they were all books he could read. Like a kid in a candy store, the boy quickly gathered a huge pile of books, far more than his required reading but also wizarding histories and books on healing, magical theory, and Quidditch. He wouldn't be ignorant of his world for long if he could help it.

He was standing at the counter, trying to figure out where he was going to put all the books when he heard Hagrid's voice out on the street. "Harry!"

The boy quickly navigated his way to the door and called the big man in. Seeing the pile of books, he borrowed some of the boys money and was back shortly thereafter with a school trunk for the boy. Harry was fascinated as the huge man kept stuffing books into one small compartment, yet it never seemed to get over full. Finally, they were finished and went on to the apothecary.

Inside, Harry got all of his supplies and a small amount of most of the common components used in potions making. From his experiences cooking, it was very important to know the scent and textures of his ingredients. They continued on until all that was left was his wand.

Entering Ollivander's, Harry was hit by the scent and feeling of age. This place was old, older than Diagon Alley itself. Lining the walls were hundreds of boxes, each with a different wand in it He could sense each one and the sparks that floated along their lengths. He was pulled from his musings when an old man came to the counter. "Ah, Mr. Potter, I knew you'd be coming in soon. You look quite a bit like your father. Now which is your wand arm?"

The boy shook his head. "I don't know. I can do everything equally well with both."

"Ambidextrous. Well then, let's see if we can't find you a wand." They went through box after box. Each time, Harry would be asked to hold the wand and give it a flick. Harry didn't see the point; he could see that the sparks in any particular one didn't mix with his own just by getting close to them. Finally the old man brought out a particularly dusty box.

"Maybe...but still, the wand chooses the wizard...Try this one, Mr. Potter; holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches."

As soon as the man approached with it, Harry knew that was it. He took the wand by the shaft and flicked it through the air, bright sparks shot from the tip as his own magic and that of the wand melded into one.

"Curious¼"

Turning to the old man's comment, Harry asked, "What's curious, sir?"

"The phoenix that gave up the tail feather to make this wand only gave up one other. The brother of this wand is the one that gave you that scar. I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things; terrible, but great."

The boy left the shop and went with Hagrid to the Magical Menagerie. Hagrid had wanted to get Harry an owl for his birthday, but something was drawing the boy here. As he walked through the shop, he was drawn to a back corner where he felt something feathery brush against his ear.

"What's that?"

"/He speaks the first tongue/," whispered a voice just by him.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"/I am Coatl/," said the whispery voice.

"That's your name?"

"No, warm blood, I am Coatl. I have no name until a human takes me as his own"

"Careful there, lad, that thing is dangerous." The owner came up behind Harry and tried to push back the creature but was met with an angry hiss. "Let's just step back a bit," he said.

"Tell me about her," Harry said. "What does she look like?"

Noticing the boy's glasses for the first time, the man nodded. "Alright, well, it's a Coatl. That's a breed of winged, feathered snake that comes from Central America This one is mostly white with black-tipped feathers."

"She sounds beautiful," the boy said. "How much is she?"

"It's not that simple," the man tried to explain. "They have to want to." He was interrupted by a whir of wings, followed by Harry feeling an unfamiliar but comfortable weight settle on his shoulders. Again he felt the feathery sensation as the snake rested its head by his ear. "/I will be with you. But you must first give me a name/."

"Hedwig," said the boy with a smile.

The two had found each other, and no amount of arguing from Hagrid or the shopkeeper could dissuade the boy from his choice. A half hour later, the boy left the shop with his pet, a cage, food, and a book on Coatls as they wended their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"All fine and good," said the half-giant as they went. "I'll talk to Dumbledore about it, but yer gonna have te tell yer aunt." Hagrid walked on as Harry stopped, gaping after him. How would he talk Aunt Petunia into letting him keep a carnivorous flying snake in the house?

R&R