Chapter 8 - Diagon Alley

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Harry didn't know what to do. After they had left the Dursley's, the giant had brought him to a train-station and they had taken a train to London. Through all of this, the giant had talked constantly. At first, Harry had tried to listen, but after a while he had decided it would be better to zone out. Not only that he didn't understand most of the things that - he - was talking about, but the little bit he did understand was rather... worrisome.
Apparently, the giant (Harry had decided to pretend he was real for the time being, since this seemed to be the most likely probability after his Aunt had forced him to go with the giant.) had known his parents. This meant he must be pretty old, didn't it? After all, HE didn't remember his parents at all, and he was 11. Therefore, they had died a long time ago.
It confused him that the giant kept talking about them, though. Aunt Petunia never did. Perhaps the giant was crazy, too? Because normal people wouldn't talk about freaks. He knew that his parents were freaks just like he himself was one. Uncle Vernon made sure to remained him every other day. And it made sense, didn't it? If his parents had been freaks, it was easy to tell that he was one, too.

"...ry?"

But he talked about other things, too. Things that were far more frightening than the stuff about his parents. Harry didn't want to hear such crazy stuff! He would have to tell Dr Green and then Dr Green would keep him in hospital again and he would be tied to his bed again for days or weeks and they would made him take more medicine and he would feel even more dizzy than he felt now... no, he didn't want this! He didn't want to hear about magic and wizards and witches and something called "hogwarts". No no no no.

"HARRY!"

"Hu?" Harry looked at the giant questioning. Why was he shouting at him? Had he done something wrong?

"Were you day-dreaming, boy?" The giant chuckled, "I have called you for ages now! Hope it was a pleasant dream, little one," he winked, "but we'll arrive in London every minute now, so we have to get ready to head to Di... eh, shopping."

Oh. That had been fast. He was quite sure that they hadn't been on the train for more than 10 minutes, but this couldn't be. You had to drive at least an hour to reach the inner parts of London. Perhaps the giant had done some of this magic-stuff? NO NO NO NO NO HE MUSTN'T THING THIS! Magic wasn't real, it was just in his head, he mustn't become even crazier than he already was! Trying to calm down (though the giant didn't seem to had notice anything about Harry's sudden flash of panic) he noticed that said giant was putting away something that looked like a big, yellow circus-tent. This got weirder by the minute.

When they had left the train, the giant told him they needed to find the underground. Harry, never having been in London, didn't know where to go. After a few minutes, though, he noticed the signs saying "U". Perhaps this meant underground? He didn't dare to tell the giant, though. Most adults didn't like it if a child knew something they didn't.
In the end, they made it to the underground, and apparently the right one, too, since after only a few stops the giant told Harry that they had arrived at their destination. It was one of the most crowded streets Harry had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, to be honest. He didn't like it. People were bustling around, shoving and poking and pushing him, and a few times he almost tripped. The giant wasn't a great help either. Just when Harry thought he couldn't bear it anymore, the giant motioned him to go through a shabby-looking door. Doubtful, he did as he was told. And caught sight of the strangest place he had ever seen. No no no no... this couldn't be true. Please, no, it mustn't be true!

"Ah, Hagrid!" An odd-looking man rushed towards the two of them. Hagrid? His name was Harry!

"Hello, Tom" said the giant. Oh. Perhaps it was the giant's name?

"...no, don't have time, am here to help little Harry Potter buy his Hogwarts-stuff!"

What followed was one of the worst panic-attacks Harry had ever experienced. People all around him, surrounding him, looming over him, trapping him - no, he had to get out! They mustn't catch him! He had to go away or they would lock him in, tie him up, making him unable to move, to fight, to do anything... he dimly heard someone screaming - oh no, oh no, now they are giving me an injection again! - and now someone was grabbing his arm, forcing him into the monitoring-room, no no NO! - And then it was over.

As soon as he had noticed that the boy didn't like the attention at all but seemed to be a bit afraid of the crowds of people, Hagrid had taken Harry by his arm and led him away, after a few words to the excited people who couldn't believe that their saviour, their hero was indeed here! Perhaps the boy was a bit shy? Funny, every time when he had imagined what Lily's and James' little son would be like he had pictured a self-assured and confident little boy. Nah, it must be the shock of entering a whole new world for the first time that made Harry act this way. Once he became accustomed to all the attention, he would be fine.

"Hello Professor Quirrell! - Harry, this will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts... Harry?" Was the boy day-dreaming again? Seemed to be some sort of habit. Oh, the Professors wouldn't be pleased with that. He just hoped they wouldn't give little Harry a hard time. Well, perhaps he could speak in his favour, after all, he was such a nice and quite boy. Surely a boy who was occasionally lost in thoughts wasn't as bad as a new prankster like the boy's father had been?
Deciding that it wasn't worth to catch Harry's attention in order to greet a Professors who seemed to be rather uncomfortable being amongst so many people (there was no other reason Professor Quirell might be this nervous, wasn't there?) anyway, Hagrid led the boy to the backyard of the Leaking Cauldron, tipped the brick with his wa- eh, umbrella - and was somewhat disappointed when Harry didn't seemed to be amazed at all.

Well, perhaps he was TOO shocked and thrilled about this amazing world to be able to express it?

###

Harry had somewhat calmed down when he noticed that he and the giant were alone again, even if it was a dirty little yard they were currently standing. The giant - Hagrid? - was tapping at some bricks. That was strange. Perhaps he was a compulsive counter? On the ward had once been a boy around his age who counted everything he saw. Harry had been slightly disturbed by the fact that there were apparently odd numbers of tiles in every bathroom except that from room 7.

He was - again - distracted from his musings when suddenly the wall split in two and a busy street (so not as busy as the street outside this strange place) came into view.

"Welcome," Hagrid said (rather pompously), "to Diagon Alley!"

If Harry hadn't been sure whether anything he had experienced this day had been real, now the matter was set. It WAS his craziness that made him see and hear all this weird stuff. It simply couldn't be true, no. No street would ever look like this. The buildings on either side of it seemed to be more suitable to the Middle Ages and there simply was no way that shops would offer all kind of body-parts from animals that either didn't exist at all or were regarded as endangered species. And then the people... no, he was finally going REALLY mad.

Hagrid, oblivious to Harry's horror, tramped on and only noticed that something was off when he heard a faint whimper, closely followed by running footsteps and a door being opened forcefully.

"Harry? HARRY?" Where was the boy? He had just been there, but now he couldn't see him anywhere? Had he seen something that frightened him? It was true, Hagrid didn't know much about muggles and their world, but he was well aware that Diagon Alley was as un-mugglish as anything could be. But he had seemed so amazed when he had first looked into the Alley, so why should he be afraid now? Well, since he would have seen the boy if he had run into the Alley, he must have went back into the Leaky Cauldron. So perhaps he just had forgotten something he wanted to fetch?

Hagrid decided to wait whether the boy would turn up, but after 10 Harry-less minutes he had to admit that something must have happened. Hopefully, no one had abducted him, Dumbledore would never forgive him such carelessness and he would surely be send to Azkaban for endangering (or even killing!) the saviour of the wizarding world! Poor little Harry, he must be sooo worried right now!
Ok, what should he do now? Fire-calling Dumbledore? Or the Aurors? But what if the boy was just playing a prank on him? Sure, he hadn't seemed like the type of child doing something like this, but, after all, he was the son of James Potter! Best to search for the boy himself before he send for help unnecessarily.

When he entered the Leaky Cauldron, all he could do was gawking.

"Hagrid, finally! You have to get him out of here, the people got all crazy when he came back!" That was Tom.

"You have him locked in the bathroom?!" Hagrid yelled, furious, "what are you thinking?" This seemed to be exactly what was happening. Tom was standing in front of the door that lead to the public toilet, arms extended, fiercely gripping the door frame, while a crowd of people was apparently trying to free the poor boy.

"Of course not, Hagrid, he ran in there himself - what did happen, was there an attack? The boy looked worse for wear! - well, but the people won't leave him alone, as soon as they saw him they started to scream and tried to grab him - he didn't seem to like it, though, ran straight into bathroom, locking himself into one of the stalls - you have to get him out of there, the people won't calm down and will wreck the pub!" He seemed rather desperate.

"Ok, well," Hagrid answered gruffly, "just let me through."

Harry screamed. He didn't know what was happening, he didn't know where he was or why or how, but he didn't want this! He just wanted to be in his cupboard, his cupboard was safe! Or even on the ward, the ward would be better than being trapped in this nightmare! All the people - trying to catch him and hurt him - and this place - this couldn't be true, no no no!
When he had run from that weird street back to the door they had come from, he had hoped he would be able to reach the other door and go back to the normal world. That was, if the normal world still existed. He wasn't so sure. Everything seemed to become more insane by the minute.

But he had never managed to reach the other door, let alone going back to some place that could me considered normal, because as soon as he had entered the room people had started advancing on him. He had tried to hide underneath a table, but the people had seen him, then he tried to crawl to the counter, hoping he would somehow be able to make it to the other side of the room (where the door that perhaps, perhaps led to normality was situated), and while becoming even more desperate (because people approaching the counter from BOTH sides) he had seen another escape route.
Behind the almost-hidden door, it turned out, the bathroom was located, and while not the escape to normality he had hoped for he was at least able to lock himself up now, meaning he was somewhat save from all this madness.

"Harry! Harry stop this screaming and come out! We really have to do your shopping now!" Hagrid tried to get the boy's attention.

But Harry, rather predictably, didn't listen. Well, perhaps he hadn't heard him in the first place, his screaming was rather loud. Poor bloke, most have been shocked by all the attention he got, surely it wasn't easy becoming accustomed to being a celebrity.

"Harry, come on, I will open the door now, all right?" Without waiting for a reply, which he wasn't likely to receive anyway, he pulled the door open, hardly aware that the door had been locked.

The sight of the boy, huddled up in the corner of the small room, his eyes pressed shut, hands over his ears, rocking forwards and backwards (and sometimes even knocking his head against the wall in the process), screaming incessantly, was something even Hagrid wouldn't forget very soon. The poor boy! Must be really, REALLY afraid!

"Harry, come on, we need to go now. Can't stay in here all day, poor Tom won't be able to hold off the crowd much longer! Now, stand up and we will just go back to Diagon Alley, all right? Everything will be all right, little one, I know, the first time seeing a place like this can be a bit overwhelming, especially for you, being the boy who lived an' all. Now, come on!"

He grabbed him by his collar, pulling him up, and was just about to hug the boy when he felt a small fist punching his side. "Hey, Harry! What's the matter?" It hadn't hurt, not really, but it was still a bit disconcerting to see a child - Harry Potter! - fighting him as if he was some kind of monster! "No, Harry, this has to stop now! Everything is all right, we will just go shopping now and forget about the whole incident, all right? Come on -"

###

Harry didn't know what was happening. After he had found himself in the relatively safety of the bathroom, he hadn't had the energy to pay attention to his surroundings any longer. He just wanted it all to end. He couldn't do this any more, it had to stop! No, he didn't want to fight any longer, this demons in his head got only worse. Why couldn't his head be normal like everyone else', too? He didn't want to hear and see and feel strange things, he just wanted it all to be quiet! Quiet! But someone was screaming and talking and demanding attention... no! No no no!

He wasn't aware that at least the screaming was his own doing. He wasn't aware that he had started rocking again, too. Dr Green had once seen him doing it, and told him it was another sign that he was mentally ill and had to take more medicine, and he had tried to avoid doing so henceforth.

Suddenly someone grabbed him.

Reacting on instinct, he tried to fight the person off. But all the beating and kicking didn't make the other person loosen his grip, and finally he stopped. He was somewhat aware that he was on his feeds again. And he seemed to be walking. He couldn't remember having started to walk. Where was he going? There seemed to be someone next to him, very close, too close. But he couldn't go away. He tried to shift, to put a little more space between himself and the other person, but to no avail. What was going on? No no, no thinking, thinking wasn't good, it just made everything worse. No thinking, no speaking, no feeling, this normally was the best course of action in situations like these. Just pretending to be non-existent, non-human. Then, sometimes, he managed to convince even himself that he didn't exist, that he wasn't a human - or any being, for the fact.

###

Hagrid was glad that Harry had stopped fighting. The boy was quiet now and did everything he was told to do. He didn't speak, mind, but this had to be because he was shy, hadn't it? He had known it all along, Harry Potter would be a nice, quiet, lovely child that wouldn't cause any trouble at all! No matter what some of the teachers kept saying - well, one of them, to be precise - Hagrid had been sure that Harry wouldn't turn out to be a trouble-maker!
This little - incident - had just been because the boy had been nervous and overtaxed with all the attention he got, no meaning had to be attached to it. He needn't tell Dumbledore, or anyone, what he had seen in the bathroom. HE wouldn't be the one to damage the boy's reputation! It had been an exception, that was for sure, and every child could make mistakes! No, Hagrid had decided he rather liked the little boy and would do everything to help him cover up the slips he might make due to being nervous and new to everything wizard-ish.

They had re-entered the Alley, and Hagrid made sure to hold Harry's hand tightly. Surely this would reassure the boy? He told him that they had to go to Gringotts first, in order to retrieve his money. He didn't argue, so it must be fine with him.
Hagrid was reassured by the fact that Harry didn't show any signs of fear when they came face to face with the Goblins. The boy was indeed a true Gryffindor, brave and all! He refused to enter his vault, though, but thankfully Griphook took care of it. Well, the Gringotts vaults WERE a bit dark, and the bottomless gorge underneath the card made even Hagrid nauseous!

When they had re-emerged and stepped into the sunlight of Diagon Alley, Hagrid briefly considered visiting the Leaky Cauldron once more (the Gringotts-cards really needed to be charmed against sea-sickness! - or was it underground-sickness?) but dismissed the idea since it wouldn't do to prolong this shopping-tour. Even so most of the people didn't seem to recognize the boy (or at least behaved themselves better than those oafs in the pub!), it was only a matter of time until the rumour of the boy-who-lived visiting Diagon Alley had spread. No, he wouldn't expose the poor boy to more stares and pointing than absolutely necessary!

Their next stop was Madame Malkin's. Just when they approached the entrance-door, a pale, blonde boy exited the shop, all by himself. Poor bloke, his parents must have dropped him off, not caring whether or not their son (who couldn't be much older than Harry) was able to fend for himself. But before Hagrid could offer him assistance, he had vanished (after a haughty look at the apparent halfblood-savage, which Hagrid had missed, though). Fitting Harry for his Hogwarts-robes didn't take very long, and Madam Malkin's complimented him on how still he had stood throughout the procedure. Most boy's his age couldn't stand still for more than two minutes, after all.

The rest of their shopping-tour went equally well, and Hagrid was pleased that he had been able to give the boy a beautiful snowy-owl as a birthday present. It had been a bit disappointing that Harry hadn't thanked him, but well, he was sure he had seen a grateful smile on the boy's face and this was enough, wasn't it? After all, it was common knowledge that children were often very shy when it came to saying „thank you" to adults, and Hagrid wasn't blind, he knew very well how to read the boy's body-language, and it clearly said how very, very delighted he was about his new pet!

Finally, only Ollivander's was left. But if Hagrid had thought the Harry would be more excited about getting his wand than he had been about the books, potions-supplies and everything else, he had been mistaken. The boy gave no sign of enthusiasm when they approached the gloomy-looking shop, and even the atmosphere (that gave Hagrid a creeping feeling every time he entered the store) didn't seem to affect him in the slightest.

"Ah, Mr Potter... yes, I wondered when I would see you..."

"Hello Mr Ollivander! Are here to buy little Harry's wand!"

"Yes, yes, I expected this... now, Mr Potter, what's you wand arm?"

After a few seconds of silence, Hagrid thought it necessary to inform Mr Ollivander that the boy was a bit shy but that he normally used his right hand for everything he did. Mr Ollivander didn't seemed to be bothered by the fact that Harry didn't acted like the average eleven-year-old he normally was used to, but just continued his ramblings about different types of wand-cores, woods, the wands of Harry's parents and so on. Simultaneously, he brought various wand to the counter, and when the tape measure had finally finished its job, he presented the first one (Beechwood and dragon heartstrings) to the still-silent boy. And was startled when it fell onto the ground.

"Mr Potter! You are supposed to take the wand! - Now, try it out!" Ollivander had summoned the wand from the floor and tried to hand it over again. However, Harry still showed no sign of having heard what he should do but just kept looking onto the floor. Trying to get his attention, Ollivander reached forward, put his index finger under the boy's chin and tried to look into his eyes.

The unexpected touch seemed to have worked, since Harry lifted his head on his own and looked around the room. He gave no sign, though, of being interested - or at least aware of - what was going on.

"Mr Potter, you are to take the wand and give it a wave!"

Harry looked, unblinkingly, at the strange man who was standing inches away from him, trying to force his hand around a thin stick. Not understanding at all what was going on, where he was or who the man was, he took the stick, obedience being one of the most deeply ingrained behaviours.

"Now, give it a wave!"

And he did. As did he with the next and the next but one. But nothing happened. Harry, quite oblivious to his surroundings or the purpose of it all, and additionally used to doing strange things because other people (outside his head as well as inside-living ones) wanted him to do so, wasn't at all bothered by the fact that even the forth, the fifth and the sixth wand gave no sign whatsoever that they were more than ordinary sticks. Ollivander and Hagrid, though, cast worried glances at each other. What was going on? Why weren't the wands working for the boy-who-lived? Normally, every wand in the hand of a wizard gave a sign of at least a tiny bit of magic, even if it might be feeble or even damaging. But NO reaction at all? Well, that didn't happen often. In fact, neither Hagrid nor Mr Ollivander (and this was saying something!) could recollect a similar incident.
But the boy WAS a wizard, wasn't he? It was simply impossible for the child of Lily and James Potter, the conqueror of you-now-who, the hero of the wizarding world, NOT to be a wizard!

Deciding to try a few of the more unusual wands, Ollivander left for the back room of his shop while Hagrid was left with a completely undisturbed looking Harry. Nevertheless, the half-giant thought it would be a good think to reassure the boy.

"Not to worry, little one, we'll find a wand for you! Happens sometimes. Not everyone can work with every wand! Just are a special boy, aren't you, Harry?" Ollivander returned, bringing more boxes. Some of the looked rather old and dusty. "Now, Mr Potter, if you would just try this one? Ebony and unicorn hair, an unusual combination..."

But still, nothing happened. Even when Ollivander made the boy taking one of the most powerful wand currently in his possession (holly and phoenix-feather), the wand he had thought would surely work for the boy-who-lived, the wand he had saved exactly for this occasion, the boy showed no sign of being a wizard.

No. It couldn't be. The boy-who-lived could not be a squib!

###

To be reasonable, it really couldn't be. His name wouldn't have appeared on the list of new Hogwarts-students if he hadn't been a wizard, he wouldn't have gotten a letter if their had been any doubts that he was unable to attend Hogwarts, and, last but not least, Harry would not have been able to go back to the Leaky Cauldron on his own if he didn't posses magical talent.

Squibs and even muggles could, of course, enter the pub and the Alley, but not only had a witch or wizard to accompany them but skin-contact was required, at least until they had actually entered one of these locations. On their own, non-magical people were unable to even see the places!

So what was going on? Why was no wand compatible with the boy?

"I like this!"

Both Hagrid and Ollivander had been deep in thoughts and were startled by the voice of the boy. Since when did he talk? He hadn't talked since... well, Hagrid wasn't sure he had heard him saying something at all. Apart from that screaming in the bathroom of the Leaky Cauldron, of course. Thinking about it, this was rather strange. Most children weren't as quiet as Harry, were they? Well, he was shy! But now he was talking... it didn't make any sense for Hagrid, so he decided to stop thinking about it. It couldn't be very important anyway, could it?

"You like what?" Hagrid asked him.

"I like this - this stick!"

"Stick? You mean wand, don't you? Stick, honestly!" Mr Ollivander was a bit put off by the boy's naming of his precious items.

"Yes. I like it. I... I want it!" He repeated and pointed at the last wand Ollivander had taken from him. It was the holy and phoenix feather wand.

"You want THIS wand?" Ollivander demanded.

"Yes. I want this... wa-, this. Yes."

"But why this particular one? Did you feel something, a quiver or trembling perhaps? Or something like meeting a long-lost friend? Or some kind of warmth? Or a flow of energy, power, well, any kind of unusual stream? Or perhaps it felt more like happiness, a buzzing of some kind that spread through your whole body? Or was it some kind of attachment, connection, like the wand was a part of your body you haven't been aware was missing? Or something else, perhaps..." He got excited, and missed the confused look on both Harry's and Hagrid's face.
Perhaps the boy had indeed a connection with this wand. Perhaps there wasn't a problem after all, perhaps it was just... well, it was possible that he had his magic more under control than the usual eleven-year-old...

"Ehm, Mr Ollivander?"

... Or could perhaps he had blocked some of his talents, being afraid of it? This was quite possible, after all, many muggle-borns only displayed accidental magic on very few occasions, in contrast to children from wizarding families. It was only natural for a child to suppress everything frightening...

"Hagrid, Harry lived with his muggle-relatives, didn't he?"

"Yes yes... do you think it could have anything to do with it?"

"Yes... indeed, yes. It is quite possible... Mr Potter?"

"Please, I really really like this one. I'll be good, I promise!"

"Yes, child, of course you can have it! You need a wand, after all! But have you felt anything I mentioned? Warmth or a quiver or some kind or energy or, well, anything?"

Harry looked at him, unsure of what to say. He liked this stick. It felt very good holding it. It made him feel calm. Not „calm" in the way his medicine made him feel, but in a more peaceful, restful way. It was a friendly calm. Yes, he liked touching the stick. It would be so great if he could have it. He had almost felt... save. Like he was finally not longer alone in his fight against the demon in his head. But this was stupid. How could a stick help him fighting the demon when all the treatment he had gotten until now hadn't helped? It was ridiculous, wasn't it?
He still wasn't sure what was going on. He had hardly any recollection of the past few hours. Or had it only been minutes since the giant - Hagrid - had grabbed him in that bathroom? He didn't know. All felt very woozy. He hoped he would be able to go home soon.

But he really, really wanted this stick!
But the strange man - the other man, not the Hagrid-man - just kept asking weird questions. He tried not to listen, it made his head hurt. But he supposed he wouldn't get the stick. Disobedient children didn't get anything they wanted. Yes, Harry was quite aware that he was very naughty and bad not answering the man's questions. But he couldn't gather the strength to do so. Well, perhaps he had just imagined the good feeling anyway. It didn't really matter.

"Ehm, well, Mr Ollivander... don't think Harry'll answer your questions... quite a shy boy. Eh, would you mind selling us this wand now? We really need to go on... have to go back to Surrey, after all - oh, no... well, just don't mention anything, not supposed to say this - well, Harry, here, has to go back to his relatives until September 1st.

"Oh, well, yes, I'm sorry, of course, yes, got all excited...this would be seven Galleons, Mr Potter."

Hagrid, who had kept the money Harry - or rather Griphook - hat withdrawn from his vault after Harry had almost left the pouch in the card when they had disembarked, paid Mr Ollivander, who wrapped up the wand and tried to hand it over to the boy. However, he just stared at him.

"I can have it?" Asked Harry incredulous, „really?" This couldn't be true. He must have misunderstood the man.

"Of, course, Mr Potter! What a question. I'm sure you will do great things... doesn't happen every day an eleven-year-old can control his magic in a way you did... nice prank, Mr Potter, yes... almost had me worry, indeed..."